Lost in Translation
by Neomeneomine
Summary: Communications are down, but the message has got to get through. slow!K/S, language.
1. Perfectly Normal Chaos

A/N: Great thanks go out to both Product of a Sick Society and bookworm01 for their wonderful suggestions. I'm going to try for K/S in this, but it will probably be really long in coming, so bear with me. If you ever think any part of the story is off in some way, PLEASE tell me so that I can fix it and make this stronger.

Mission Impossible Mode is my term for that super-focused gear that Kirk has when he has to solve the unsolvable.

Light pollution is an issue right now, what with star watchers suddenly not able to see anything, even in some deserts, because of the light of major cities. Noise pollution is also a problem. It doesn't seem that big a stretch to think of electrical pollution in space: too many electrons can create ions, which would lead to evolutionary issues that affected planets wouldn't have otherwise had to deal with.

Cookies to the person who gets the Pirates of the Caribbean reference!

Ok. The line breaks that I was originally using, *~*, were being erased by for some reason. I've replaced them with the nothing word .bdobd. ; hopefully this will solve any remaining issues. I've also changed some bits in the chapter to better match Spock and Jim's relationship at the end of Without Direction.

.bdobd.

James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the USS Enterprise, NCC 1701, rounded the hall's corner and nearly ran over two of his own crew.

He took a few steps backward and there was an awkward moment where they all tried to bow to each other on the same time. After a couple uneasy seconds Kirk gave up and smiled, thankfully, the crewpeople returned the grin and Jim continued barreling down the hallway.

He started to mutter uncharitable things under his breath about five minutes later: "Where _is_ she? Stupid fucking forms, and then the freaking Base head's not even _in_ her office – what's the point of a business office if the goddamned person's not there during business hours? What the fuck –?"

A light tap on his arm stopped him: Spock. The Commander was looking very un–distressed, so he was probably strangling himself over nothing _again_ –

"Captain?"

Jim sighed and turned to face the concerned half-Vulcan. "Yes, Commander?"

"You are… You appear to require assistance in locating Madam Tishri?"

_'GoddamnedVulcansuperhearing.'_ Not his fault though. Jim sighed again.

"Yeah. She said she needed the one form, but now I can't find her." Starbase XI wasn't big by the Federation's standards, but its layout was as confusing as any one he'd ever been in.

Spock tipped his head to one side, and Jim had to suppress a grin. _'His ears are pointing to Orion Prime.'_

"Today is a Thursday. It is possible that the Madam has her weekly meeting today with the managers of the stores in residency. I believe the meeting is to be conducted in room C4."

Wonderful, beautiful, perfect person, Spock, he was. Most useful goddamned creature alive. "Godsend. You. Are a godsend." Jim clasped Spock by his shoulders and gave him a slight shake. "Thank you."

Jim spun on his heel and marched off to meet whatever his destiny decreed lay in room C4. He swore that he could feel Spock being amused – not smiling, per se, but definitely amused – behind him.

.bdobd.

C4 looked much like G7, the first room Kirk had dramatically burst into. But C4 was filled with merchants and a previously cheerful Tishri, who had become quickly un-cheerful as Kirk crashed into the room.

She actually _winced_ when she saw him. "Can I help you, Captain?"

"Yes." Jim decided to ignore the awe-filled looks that now populated the room. "I have been trying to find this damn form since a week ago. I didn't even know it _existed_ until _two_ weeks ago, and that's because it hadn't even been _conceived of_ yet. So I've been running around like a lunatic trying to find this thing, and your secretary didn't know what it was or where _you_ were, so now I've_ found_ you, and I am here to ask you:"

Kirk leaned over the conference table and again ignored the prickly feeling on the back of his neck, the one that meant he was being stared at, "What is the 13-33.49 form, and how can I get it?"

Tishri was singularly unaffected by his dramatics. The woman'd seen all kinds of stunts before; this clearly did not impress her in the least. "That form was due two days ago, I can't –,"

Kirk's voice was rising steadily. "I sent _my_ First Officer – Mr. Spock – _my_ Mr. Spock couldn't find _jack shit _on this form! Spock! Found nothing! If it exists, _Spock should have been able to get it!_"

The Others in the rooms looked from the human to Tishri in a way disturbingly reminiscent of a tennis match. "It's a new form," Tishri explained, "it probably hasn't been posted yet –,"

_"No shit!_ It's nowhere! How am I supposed to fill a form that _doesn't exist in subspace!"_

The Others were convinced, he could see it. "You don't understand," Tishri said slowly, as if talking to an _exceptionally_ stupid child, "once you dock, you can't file the form. It's a Permission-To-Dock form."

"But I filed two of those!"

"Those were two different forms."

Kirk shook his head. "There are three now? Isn't two enough? Or, even better, could there be one big one that covered everything?"

"One's for the use of the area itself, and one's for the use of Base stores and facilities."

"So what's the new one for?"

"Use of Base personnel."

Kirk blinked at the Andorian. "The fuck? Don't the personnel come with the stores? Isn't that the point of working for a company? That you're part of the company, who therefore must take care of you? Wouldn't personnel be in the stores-and-facilities form?"

"Well, no. Not anymore. The Council ruled that since the employees have the same kind of mortality rate that the Base workers do, that the stores' employees have their own form."

Another blink. "So who pays the employees?"

"The stores do, of course."

Kirk closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _"Then what's this form for?"_

Tishri looked around at the now-intent people ringing the table. She stood and dragged him into an adjoining room, and then peered suspiciously behind herself.

"You want the truth? It's a stupid fucking form."

"So Spock didn't need to –?"

"Nope."

"Damnit, I _knew _it! Perfectionist bastard tries too hard."

Tishri smiled slightly. "Good ones do, even on the stupid shit."

"Yeah." Jim sighed. "And he _knows_ it's stupid. And he obsesses _anyway._ He's gonna hurt himself soon."

Tishri punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, anytime he wants a new job…"

Kirk grinned and punched her back. "Back off, he's mine."

There was a short but pleasant lull in the conversation. Jim was loath to speak again, but it _was_ kind of important… "So, the form?"

Tishri sighed. "You picked a bad one to miss. You can't fill it out when you ship's docked. I think it's to ensure that the First chair has time to look it over. I _think_."

"So, wait then. I'm docked. That is my state of being." Jim waved his hands in slow circles to indicate the totality of the statement, "Here is my position in the universe. How can I fill out the form it I'm on the Base?"

"You can't."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Well, fuck, that's useful. How do I –,"

"You need to detach the Enterprise, fill out the form, send it in, and then hook back in."

A _redock?_ "_Bull_shit."

Tishri sighed. "No, really."

Kirk shook his head. "But I can't _do_ that, my crew's on Base. I can't just leave them here."

"It wouldn't be for that long…?" She seemed to know how Kirk would answer.

Redocking was infamously stressful for crew left on a Base. There were Academy horror stories of Captains flying off without low-performing crewman, leaving them stranded in Bases in far-flung quadrants for decades. Some of the stories were true: M. C. Ce'at was abandoned on Starbase LVII for almost twenty-five years before a passing cargo ship found him and brought him back.

"I will not do that. There's got to be another way."

"There isn't."

Kirk was in full Mission Impossible Mode. "Then I'll _make_ one." He flipped open his communicator. "Spock, get to room C4. I need a miracle."

"I can not promise anything as extraordinary as a miracle, Captain," came the dry reply. There was some rustling form Spock's end as he began to move.

"Your 'best shot's are as close to miracles as I've ever seen. It's about that stupid form."

The moving sounds stopped. "Form 13-33.49? You were able to locate it?"

"Not exactly. It's impossible to find unless you already know where it is." Jim smiled as he _felt_ Spock raise an eyebrow in relief. Not that the Vulcan'd ever admit it, of course.

"…Illogical."

"_Spock!_" Tishri cried happily at the communicator. There was a looong silence from Spock's end, broken once be the sound of the lift doors opening.

Jim started snickering as Spock continued to not respond. Tishri's expression got flatter and flatter, and had turned wry by the time Spock peered cautiously into their little alcove. "Captain. You required my assistance?"

Tishri mock-glared at Spock, who ignored her. He'd gotten better at that since being on the Enterprise – he'd learned how to be obstinate from The Master, after all.

"Yes Mr. Spock. We've," Jim waved carelessly to Tishri, "found that form. It wasn't in the computer's databases yet, apparently it's too recent." He glared at the hybrid, "So there's no reason for you to beat yourself up for not finding it. It was impossible."

Spock blinked quietly at the blonde. "Is that all…?"

"No, now there's a logistical problem with filling the damn thing out."

Spock stepped inside the room, closing the door fully behind him. The unfortunate people Tishri had been talking to were half out of their chairs, trying to look like they weren't trying to peer around the irritatingly opaque door.

"What is the situation?"

_'– and how can I help?'_ was the silent ending.

"The form can't be signed once the ship's docked," Tishri explained, "So you'll have to disconnect the ship, fill and file the form, and then reconnect."

"Which will not happen, because the crew's down here already," Jim added.

Spock nodded. "It would be unwise to perform a redock without the full complement on board. Is it necessary for the ship to be off of the Starbase, or for he command crew to be off of the Starbase, for the form to be completed?"

Tishri unclipped a PADD from her belt loop. "Here, lemme check." She had to scroll for a moment before answering. "The crew. Probably to stop redocking."

"Who is needed to be present for the form to be considered valid?"

" 'Captain, First Officer, and at least one additional member of the command crew'," Tishri quoted.

Jim frowned. "There can't be more than two members of the Command team of a docked ship off Base at any time during leave, to keep mutinies from happening…"

Tishri looked surprised. "Really? I thought it was to keep people from stealing the ships."

"If I may make a suggestion," Spock broke in, stopping the tangent, "I am both the First and Science Officers of the Enterprise. The Captain and I could pilot a shuttle off of the Starbase, fill out the 13-33.49 form, file it, and then fly back. It would fulfill all stated requirements for proper completion of the form."

Tishri and Jim both blinked for a moment. "… Well, yeah," the Andorian finally said, "that'd work too, I guess."

Jim beamed and clapped Spock on the shoulder, ignoring the Vulcan's raised eyebrow at he move. "See? I told you you were a miracle worker." He turned to the Andorian, "Can we borrow a shuttle? I don't want to get an eviction message from the Admiralty over this."

Tishri looked back to her PADD and scrolled a bit more. "Yeah, you can take shuttle G-71, it's not in use. Do you know where the shuttle bay is?"

"No," Jim said.

"Yes," Spock answered at the same time.

"Excellent!" Tishri crowed, "The lock code's NOVA in digits. You'll only need to fly about twenty miles out, I'm not gonna be too strident with you guys: I'm pretty sure you're not trying to invade the Federation."

"Thanks Tishri," Kirk called out as he turned to leave. "Come on Spock, let's get this over with."

The people Tishri'd been meeting with were about to die of curiosity, it was clear. Jim enjoyed their expressions in passing as he entered the hall and went about taking some gregariously wrong turns. He then realized that Spock was nowhere near him, and hurried quietly after the Vulcan, who'd turned in the exact opposite direction.

They got to the shuttle bay in about ten minutes, which was quite the accomplishment considering how _big_ this damn Base was. Honestly, Jim doubled Tishri could've done this without getting lost at least once.

"Hey, how'd you know the way down here?" Jim asked as they strolled down the roses of transport pods, looking for G-71.

"I studied the layout of the Starbase XI extensively before landing." Spock paused considering before one particularly filthy pod before scrubbing softly at the side of it with his uniform sleeve.

Jim decided to ignore just how adorable that was. "Why'd you do that? Was there anything particular about this Base?"

Up went an Eyebrow. "Apart from the fact that we were to dock here?"

Jim flushed. "Well, yeah. I don't remember you usually checking into the layout of docking stations before…" his eyes widened. "Ah. Right. Got it."

The Vulcan nodded once and scrubbed again at the side of the shuttle. "After the incident with the Nahka Comentha at the Andorian station, it seemed prudent to study the location of major areas of the Starbase."

"Makes sense." Jim stepped up beside Spock. "What're you scratching at?"

"I believe this craft to be G-71, but I am hesitant to attest to this without confirmation."

The human turned and walked to the shuttle's entrance. "Why not just test the lock code? Every one's different."

Spock blinked. "That… would be a more efficient way of proceeding, yes."

Jim tapped '6682' into the keypad, and the door slid open with a hiss. He turned to Spock with a grin, who nodded his concession. The two of them stepped carefully into the shuttle.

While the hull was caked with dirt and debris, the interior wasn't too bad. There were some PADDs scattered about, and some styluses, but that was the whole of any mess.

Spock picked up one of the PADDs with interest. "This shuttle was last used by a team testing the strength of the Tellaritian communications system."

Jim snorted and sat down in the pilot's chair. "Busy work, if every I've heard of it. Why bother? It's the strongest in the Federation, most everyone uses it. The Enterprise is the only ship in the Fleet that doesn't, actually."

The Commander placed himself in the copilot's seat and began testing all of his instrumentation. "Indeed. But, as you know well, to maintain optimum levels of performance, constant testing and modifying is necessary."

Jim nodded. "True, true. You think I should comm Bones, or just try and get this done quickly?" He flicked a switch and the shuttle sputtered to life.

Sock finished sending Base engineering a message to open the bay doors before replying. "I believe that leaving the Doctor a message would be prudent, to lower the chances of your disappearance causing him undue distress."

"Makes sense. I'll do it once we get out of the bay, the reception in here sucks." Jim ordered to shuttle to fly to the third set of exit hatches, which it did with a relieving ease.

"Shuttle G-71 in position to exit," Spock told his controls. The recording was sent to the engineering deck, who quickly opened the hatch.

The airlock doors slammed shut behind the shuttle before the hatch opened, the vacuum of space sucking the small craft from the Base with the usual strange yawning/popping sound that reverberated throughout the pod.

Jim waited until the initial momentum from the exit had slowed slightly before revving the pod's impulse engines. The resulting readouts revealed why the pad hadn't been in operation: the old machinery, while impressively quiet, was irritatingly inefficient.

"Damn it," Jim muttered. Spock looked up from his update to the Base engineers and raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "These engines suck. It'll take us a good hour to get out twenty miles without fuming enough to require a report."

Fuming wasn't an exact term; the pollution it referred too was mostly light and electrical; only a small amount of it was gaseous. In an effort to increase efficiency the Council had instituted a policy that said that if you were within fifty miles of a docking site – whether you, yourself, actually planned on landing – you couldn't emit more than 65 units of pollution.

The legislation had worked well, except for the fact that no one had thought of a way to clear out off of those old, inefficient models. And since fuming increased exponentially with speed, this particular pod was really only allowed to go a little less than twenty miles an hour.

The blonde flopped back in his chair with a sigh. "Well, we'll be here for a while." He reached for his comm, "I'm gonna call Bones. Can you call up that form? Tishri should've sent it by now, I'll send it back as soon as we get out twenty miles."

The Vulcan nodded and by the time Jim'd finished his call to Bones – who thought the whole fiasco was hilarious – the offending form was glowing cheerfully from Spock's PADD.

Kirk made short work of the form – wasn't a big one, it just needed two signatures – and set it to send automatically in half an hour. Swiveling back to his First officer, he saw that Spock was sitting quietly at his terminal, politely being bored.

Jim frowned. That wasn't right. He turned back to his terminal and called up the nearest public frequency. At least they could watch something while they were sputtering about.

Spock turned towards him as the main screen crackled to life. "Captain?"

"No reason for us to be bored, might as well catch up on," Jim gestured towards the main screen, which was still establishing a connection, "something."

The Commander raised an eyebrow, but didn't otherwise comment. He leaned an elbow against his terminal to keep his chair from rebounding back to his instruments. "What frequency is this?"

"Ahhh… Channel 60, subcode 72-8.12. It's coming from Terra."

Spock took his PADD back and did a quick search of the channel database, "It is a public news show airing from Paris."

"Political talk show then." Jim leaned back and stared blandly at the supremely uninteresting static that still played across the main screen. He caught Spock cocking his head in a query from the corner of his eye.

"All of the major political commentary stations are shot from Paris. It's where the Federation President's headquarters are, so they can get dibs on anything that's going on in the executive branch."

Spock nodded. "Logical." The Vulcan looked at the static that was still on-screen. "This is an unusual amount of interference for an interplanetary broadcasting station."

"I know." Jim leaned forward and called up the channel information again. "Well, our sensors suck, for one thing… and – Here, wait, I got it. There's a stronger frequency coming from around the same place."

Filtering out a weak station from a set of two channels coming from the same place did not a happy communications sensor make. Honestly, they were lucky the old machinery hadn't overheated.

"Why would two channels both of Terran origin be of differing strengths? I had believed the United Earth Commission's Rules of Equality to extent to public broadcasts."

"They do. The UEA's whole 'optimal and equal' shtick is supposed to be across the board. The only thing I can think of is that there're two different companies hosting the two different channels. I'm pretty sure that's not allowed, though."

The channel was established with a sudden noisy crackle. The screen cleared a dark-haired human woman with light eyes talking to the camera. She had clearly been incensed by something.

.bdobd.

Zara-Beth Nowmi was talking angrily at the camera, trying to get her point across. The most irritating part of it all was that no one could be sure how many people actually saw today's broadcast, because of the stunt the UAE had pulled.

"–and it was only today that the United Asian Emirates deemed it proper to inform the United Earth Commission of their now almost fifteen year contract with Valpac!"

She sighed and stopped to explain, "Valpac is the Tellaritian company that hosts most of Starfleet's long distance channels. They're widely praised for their high quality work, and the United Earth Commission has been trying to get a planetary contract with them for the past six years, all attempts of which have been epically unsuccessful.

"But now it happens that the Asian Emirates have had a contract with them the whole time! This is in blatant disregard to United Earth rules, which say that all countries are to be 'optimal and equal in all ways'. It is the _slogan_ and the United Asians are part of the agreement, and they've violated it.

"The contract is to expire tomorrow, so the United Earth's got, practically, less than a week to decide what actions to take. Either they can demand a full retraction of the contract – which would be pretty useless, as it would have expired by then – or they can ask for an identical contract to be extended to the entirety of the planet Earth, or they can do nothing. Precedence is to –,"

The camera blinked off. Zeb stared at it blankly. Why…?

One of the show's interns, T'Panya, came striding in. The Vulcan woman had been on Terra so as to observe unofficial human communication, which was notoriously difficult for non-humans to 'get', when the Narada attacked. She'd decided to stay on as a technician instead of traveling back to the Colony.

She'd said that she'd like to work in Nowmi's office specifically because of her 'clear and well organized' broadcasts. The Vulcan'd been shocked (Nowmi assumed, it was hard to tell, really) to find that behind the scenes the office was hectic by _Tellaritian _standards.

She now looked about as angry as she ever did: not very. The Vulcan halted in from of the anchorwoman's desk and bowed shallowly from the waist. "The United Asian Emirates' frequencies are too strong for a coherent signal to be transmit. There is no logic in continuing the present broadcast."

T'Panya was being typically blunt, and it always managed to rub Zeb the wrong way. "This is according to…?"

"Misters Sarab and Stevens, Ms. Nowmi," T'Panya recited.

Damn. Sarab was the floor manager; if he didn't think it was worth it, then the signaling connections must be on fire, or something equally catastrophic. Stevens was his assistant, and was just as stubborn. "Right. When can we begin shooting again, does anyone know?"

"Estimated repair time is four days if conditions are ideal. Allowing for an average error rate in either machine or personnel performance, the repairs will take six days."

One of the biggest downsides about having a Vulcan technician was that you couldn't' swear in from of them (her), as they (she) would then make you describe the precise definition of everything you'd just said.

"Can we order a replacement part?"

"Yes. It would take a Standard week to arrive."

Zeb gritted her teeth, and T'Panya suddenly looked surprised (sorta), and then chastened (a bit). "I am sympathetic to any emotional distress this news has caused you. Shall I go to fetch Nala?"

Zeb winced. Nala was the _human_ intern. "No, it is all right. It is not your fault. When can we shoot again?"

"Broadcasts are not scheduled to commence until after the Frequency Equality Agreements have been negotiated and signed."

_"What?"_ Zeb shot out of her seat and began to pace cagily behind her desk. "That's what we need to _cover_, that's too important to just skip until our cameras decide to work again! Can't we just film in another studio?"

T'Panya shook her head. "It is not the cameras that are our main obstacle in broadcast, it is the strength of the Valpac's frequencies. They are drowning us out."

Zeb thought various horrible things about no one specific. "_Damn_ it. Why are they so strong now? They've had these channels for years, why's it now that they're so huge?"

"It is not clear as of this moment, but apparently there are increased communications within the United Asian Emirates."

"They're talking more? That's it? But –,"

"Similar issues have occurred before. The aftermath of the Narada Incident was also witness to a breakdown of communications, but that was blamed on Earth's faulty infrastructure."

Zeb turned from pacing to face the tech. "Is there _anything_ we can do?"

The Vulcan shook her head. "All of our holovisual broadcasting frequencies have been affected by the Valpac channels. There is no way to contact every member of our customary audience, even if we were to publish the show online. It would still have to travel through subspace."

Zeb sighed. "Alright. I'm going to go wash up. I'll see you tomorrow at noon, Sarab'll want a meeting."

T'Panya nodded. "Yes, Ms. Nowmi. Shall I call Nala?"

"Nah, I'll be fine. G'night, T'Panya."

"Peace and safety, Ms. Nowmi." The woman bowed once more, then left.

Zeb trudged heavily into her dressing room and flopped down into a chair before her mirror. She began scrubbing at her face mechanically, thinking over the show's new schedule. There were guests to call and apologize to, segments to be cancelled, graphics to be deleted…

She leaned forward and poked critically at the skin under her fashionably light eyes. Dark irises had been the norm for holovid commentators for decades – easier to read the expressions, to tell where the people were looking – until the Narada and Kirk came along.

Zeb's eyes had a tendency to look totally different colors from day to day, which had the admittedly amusing consequence of causing multiple conspiracy theories to pop up, to the effect that there were actually 3+ nearly-identical Zara-Beths, which were switched off nightly.

There were bags on her face, she just _knew _it. Too many nights up watching Council hearings, drinking to stay awake…

The human tilted her head back and smiled wanly at the mirror. Oh well. _'It's too late now, anyway.'_

.bdobd.


	2. Unusual Chaos

A/N: .bdobd. is now what is being used as line breaks. Hopefully, won't erase letters, as opposed to symbols.

Edited to better sync with Without Direction.

.bdobd.

Jim tapped inquisitively at the static that had overtaken the holoscreen. "This is so weird." He had to talk over his shoulder; Spock'd begun to page through the reports the Tellarites had left behind a few minutes after the screen'd blanked out.

"Indeed."

The Vulcan sounded totally absorbed in what he was reading. Jim was bored. Goddamnit, _he_ wanted Spock's attention. The blonde stood, stretched ostentatiously, and strolled over to the other man's chair.

"What's so interesting?"

Spock lifted his head to respond and almost took off Jim's nose, as the human'd leaned down to peer at the PADD. "The former users of this craft were Valpac employees. They were attempting to research the effects that hydrogen-helium engines had on Valpac's frequency clarity."

"That's strange. I though they'd already proved that it did have an effect, that's why the Enterprise doesn't use them." Jim rested his elbows on the back of the chair. "Why're they retesting? New products?"

"I do not believe so. Diagnostics are only given for Valpac's frequencies, none others. There were apparently unsuccessful in their trails and gave up the experiment."

Spock scrolled down a bit with a valiant effort to ignore the fact that Jim'd planted his chin on his fist, placing his head about a centimeter from the Commander's. "Makes sense. The Bases are running a lot cleaner than they were."

Hydrogen-helium engines were a relatively new invention, one with a lot of potential. They were clean, quiet, and cheap to maintain and fuel – and it wasn't like there was to be a hydrogen shortage anytime soon. But they did have a nasty reputation for messing up subspace frequencies, and Starfleet had moved in to combat the issue with a pretty good success rate.

Jim flicked a finger at an icon in the PADD's upper left-hand corner. "Is that email?"

Spock moved the PADD back in front of his own face. "I believe so." He frowned without moving the lower half of his face: an enviable skill. "That is not permitted within formal experiments. Experimental data has been compromised using private communications systems; such communications have been made illegal in formal experimentation –,"

"Clearly, these guys didn't care about that." Jim took the PADD from the concerned Vulcan, opened the email icon on the touch-sensitive screen, selected the most recent file, and began to read.

"Hey, they were talking about the UAE's communications deal." He scrolled slightly, "The Asian Communications team wanted to go back to local stations."

Spock not-frowned again, into the blank wall over his terminal. Jim had effectively stolen the PADD, so there wasn't much to direct the un-expression to. "They were not running a comparison.

"'Parently they were trying to re-state their previous claims of superiority over Terran stations." Jim tried to bring the PADD closer to his face without taking out Spock's eye, and was pretty successful. "The UAE said they'd figured out a way around the Hy-Hell comm issues…"

He handed the PADD back to the Vulcan, pointing at a line in the email that detailed the Asian frequencies. "Are these applicable to the Enterprise? The modifications look really good to me, but you're better with these frequencies."

Spock studied the message and shook his head. " No. The Enterprise is on a 4,500 bit system, both the Valpac and the United Asian frequencies are on a 4,750 system. The ship will not be able to broadcast anything on either of these programs."

Jim _fwhuff_ed dejectedly into the side of Spock's head, making the Vulcan's ears twitch slightly. The blonde cheered up a bit. "Damn. Those could've been useful."

The Commander studied the PADD silently for a moment. "The changes could be applied to our systems."

Jim perked up and leaned closer to the device. "Really? Could you ask Scotty and Uhura when we get back? I want to be able to talk through ion storms too."

"These are only experimental measures. They may not function well in reality."

"Let's try it anyway. It _could_ work, that's all I care about."

"Yes, sir." Jim could've sworn that Spock was amused. The Vulcan reached for his PADD and opened a file.

The human flapped a hand. "Oh, please, don't –," He stopped short as his eyes widened and saw what the just-opened file was. "YEAH! SUCCESS!" Jim straightened and joyfully punched the air.

The copy of the now valid, ratified, cleared, filed form was glowing softy on the screen. "Indeed," Spock responded. He swiveled to face the exuberant blonde. "Are we to return now to Starbase XI?"

"Mm-hmm." Jim sat back down in the pilot's chair. "Don't want to be gone too long, the crew might notice we're missing."

"Very well. The engines have been prepared, sir."

The human beamed. "'Course they have." He typed in the coordinates of the Base's dock, then paused. "Hey, do you know which dock we're going back to?"

Spock considered the question carefully, which was always fun to watch. "… No."

"Lemme call Tishri, see if we can get an answer. " Jim moved to open a channel, but before he'd even finished inputting the First chair's extension, a 'RESTRICTED' notice came up.

"Apparently, shuttlecraft are not permitted to contact private numbers," Spock wryly observed. Jim gave him a Look.

"I'll try Starfleet Command, any shuttle use is supposed to be filed."

Spock raised an eyebrow, but didn't otherwise comment on the irony of the sudden need for an obscure form.

The Starfleet icon soon was pulsing gently on the holoscreen. Both officers were quiet as they waited for an operator to answer.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The two were exchanging concerned looks by the time a clearly harassed Betelgeusian answered the line. "What'd'ya need?"

Jim blinked. That was _not_ the official greeting. "I just left Starbase XI in a shuttle, I'm looking to return and I need a dock assignment number."

There was a terrible, furious screech from the Betelgeusian's end. She turned and looked to the source of the noise anxiously, then sighed tiredly and swiveled back to the stunned officers. "Can't you ask the Base what docks are open?"

Spock stood and walked to where he could be seen by the operator. "This craft was not cleared for private communications Has Starbase XI filed a 2A-7 form in the past forty-five minutes?"

The Betelgeusian's eyes had widened comically when she'd spotted Spock, and was now quietly mouthing horrified nonsense. She swiveled suddenly and shouted, "Kirk on line Lambda 4, sir!"

Jim'd always found it hilarious that no one recognized him without Spock by his side, but Spock's eyebrow leapt.

The operator's supervisor took her chair. "Captain. Terra is having a total communications breakdown. Starfleet has ordered you to return to the Sol system immediately."

Jim was nonplussed. "Um. Alright. But I need to know where to dock the shuttle to get back to the Base to get back to the Ent–,"

"Dock H-7 Captain," the supervisor interrupted. Jim could feel Spock behind him becoming offended on his behalf.

"Thank you. What's happening over there?"

"No one can tell right now, but it looks like Valpac just stopped all communications abilities for all of the planet Earth. Starfleet Command's the only plane that can broadcast or receive right now, and we're getting swamped."

"I was informed that Valpac only serviced the Asian Emigrates," Spock stated.

The supervisor shook his head. "That's what everyone was told. It looks like they were the foundation for a lot of the locally run stations, though, and when those folded they brought the whole thing down."

"Anyone know why the service was cut?" Kirk asked.

"None that I know of. The Admirals will tell you more when you are back on-ship."

Kirk nodded shortly. "Right. We'll get there as soon as we can."

The supervisor looked relieved and he called over his shoulder. "Enterprise is coming!"

Kirk's resolve strengthened as Fleet Command called out their thanks to the people on line Lambda 4. The connection was cut as Starfleet Command diverted all resources to dealing with a planet worth of panicked communications. Spock returned to his post as Kirk imputed the coordinates for dock H-7.

The pod sped back to the Base as quickly as possible, emissions be damned.

.bdobd.

The shuttle pod's low clearance necessitated the Captain's calling of Starbase XI's engineers on his private communicator as soon as he was within range. The engineers were quick to comply with the Captain's request to enter, but they were vocal in their confusion over the need to interrupt their private conversations to do so.

This did not improve the Captain's emotional state; he was already made… _(uneasy-tense-concerned-worried)_ by the breakdown of Terra's communications abilities.

The Captain had exited the shuttle before the disembarking ramp had fully descended. The blonde jumped down and began trotting to the shuttle bay's connecting doors, calling, "Get to the ship; I'm calling shore leave of; we're going to Earth," over his shoulder.

Spock was left to find a way to transport the transport craft into an empty holding slot. He could not find an empty holding slot.

Seven point fifty-four minutes were inefficiently and ineffectively spent looking for a seemingly nonexistent holding slot to pilot the craft into.

One was eventually found, and then Spock recalled that as it was the Captain who had piloted the shuttle, the Captain was the only one who was allowed to pilot it until the shuttle was placed into a holding slot and the proper paperwork was filed to take it back out again.

Spock located an engineer, told him his issue, and left the apparently befuddled man to figure out how to solve the predicament just as the Captain's voice have over the Starbase's PA system, ordering all Enterprise crew back to the ship immediately for an emergency mission to Terra.

The Captain also noted that as the ship needed to be at Warp 8 in forty minutes to get to Earth in an hour, the crew had twenty minutes to get to the Enterprise, else be abandoned on base until the Enterprise could come back and pick them up.

Spock began to run.

Many other crewpeople did as well. The Starbase was made chaos of truly scared crew, all vying for access to the nearest turbolift. Spock's rank gave his some privilege over the general crew, but over the Starbase workers, none. They were also pushing to enter the turbolifts to reach their stores, lest they be looted in the confusion.

Spock reached the ship's connection doors in six minutes.

Bridge, in seven point six, the Captain was alone for two stressed Ensigns at Tactical, and was clearly concerned, watching footage from some of the Starbase's security cameras on the main screen, but he had to know of the extent of the swarming:

"Captain. The Starbase has fallen into chaos." The Captain gritted his teeth, working the muscles of his jaw in distress.

"I know, but this is the only way to get everyone on in time, I don't have another option."

"The emotional strain that is being introduced is equivalent to that of a redock." The Captain flinched almost invisibly, but his tone was even as he responded.

"You know that this is the only way to prevent stragglers. I can't have people fooling around, and leave them out –,"

Lieutenants Uhura and Sulu and Ensign Chekov burst through the Bridge's entrance in a noisy clatter of flailing limbs. "How much time is left –?" Sulu began to ask.

"Ten minutes," the Captain answered, "you're fine."

Uhura walked briskly over to her station. "Can I tell the Base that? People are –,"

"Freaking out, I know, but there's no signal that the Base is picking up, I've tried–,"

Lieutenant Uhura's interruption would not be tolerated under circumstances differing in the least from these. "I know. They've stopped using all Valpac stations, they're worried about the frequencies being corrupted or dropped."

Nurse Chapel came over the Captain's line, sounding vaguely panicked, "What's going on, what are we prepping for? Doctor McCoy's pacing like a caged lion, what're we getting into? Burn victims? Gunshots? Poisons? Famine?"

"Worst case scenario for you guys is a ton of humans to transport: Do epidemic and panic prevention." The Captain looked to his First Officer for advice, who could add little.

"It is possible that the population could have become violent from the stress, some preparation for stab and blunt-force injuries could be wise."

The Captain nodded. "And what he said. Kirk out."

"Yessir. Chapel out." Queries into the mission dossier could be heard as Chapel cut the connection.

Uhura turned to face Captain. "Sir, all personnel on ship."

The Captain looked to the clock that was counting down the twenty minutes. Three point nine were still to be counted. "That's good time. Alright, Sulu, detach the ship, Uhura, announce it and open a channel to comm number 1-211-3."

Both Lieutenants nodded and began to input the required commands. Ensign Chekov swiveled nervously to face the Captain. "Ah… Ser, vhere are ve going een ze Sol system? Are zhere any coordinates?"

The Captain shook his head in the negative. "No, the Admirals are supposed to call once they know we're on ship, they're to tell us more."

The Navigator nodded slowly and turned back to his original position. Uhura's voice was now being heard over the Enterprise's loudspeakers, announcing detachment and that all crew had reported in, a detail the Captain had not included in his instructions.

Madam Tishri's channel was quickly opened on the main screen. The Andorian seemed harassed. "Yes Captain?"

"We're detaching; I thought you might want to know."

The woman visibly relaxed. "Yeah, thanks. Go right ahead, I'll tell my engineers." She ruffled distractedly for a private communicator, making Jim grin.

"Thanks Tishri. Kirk out."

The stateswoman waved a hand lazily in the holoscreen's general direction. "No problem. Tishri out," and the main screen cleared.

"Should I detach now, Captain?" Lieutenant Sulu asked.

The Captain nodded. "Go for it. Uhura, open a – no, no," the blonde paused, "send the Admiralty a text message over Commodore Barnett's private line: 'Kirk here, on ship, what are coordinates and orders?'"

Spock blinked in unison with Lieutenant Uhura, though she spoke first. "A text message, sir?"

The Captain turned to face the surprised officer. "Starfleet's trying to filter a planet's worth of calls right now, a written message'll be easier for the system to handle."

The ship shuddered as it detached from the Starbase. The Captain's attention was drawn immediately to the main screen, as was usual. "Steady, Sulu…" he said quietly.

It was not a referendum on the Lieutenant's quite exemplary performance, more a demonstration of Kirk's own extraordinary devotion to his ship. The Lieutenant made no comment, but the Enterprise glided softly out of the Starbase with no further jolting. The Captain relaxed backward as the ship was maneuvered fully around to point away from the Starbase, facing the Sol system.

When he realized what he'd done, the blonde smiled a sheepish apology to the Lieutenant, who grinned back a reassurance. Uhura spoke from her station, still facing her open comm screen.

"A reply, sir: 'Commodore here, take 1701 to eat intersection, report by video and audio when arrive.'"

Kirk blinked to her. "Eat?"

Uhura turned to face him, "E-A-T, sir, that's what's written here. Should I ask for clarification?"

The blonde thought for a moment, then grinned. "E-A-T is for Earth-Andoria-Tellar, he wants us to go to –,"

"Ze intersection of ze borders! Da, da, I know vhere zat ees!"

Spock looked at the Ensign's interruption until the Russian's eyes widened and seemed appropriately galled. "Oh! Sorry, Keptin, I… _ehrmm…_"

The Ensign slid his gaze over to the subtly displeased Vulcan. Jim grinned. "Alright, that's enough Mr. Spock." Spock relaxed at the reassurance as the Captain turned back to the Ensign, "And, yes, that's the 'border'. What's our ETA at warp 8?"

Helmsman Sulu blinked. "Wait: I thought it was the E-A-T border, not the –,"

Kirk started. "Wha – no, no, what's our Estimated Time of Arrival to the Earth-Andoria-Tellar intersection. Our E.T.A to E.A.T."

"Ohh," both Sulu and Chekov said. They then both began to input the necessary coordinates. Kirk swiveled about to Lieutenant Uhura's station. The Lieutenant was ineffectively attempting to mask her amusement.

"Lieutenant, make a note that in any announcements regarding our mission, if both ETA and the EAT border are mentioned, be sure to say at least one in full." The Lieutenant gave a muffled snort of strained good humor and turned back to obey the Captain's orders.

Abbreviations were widely acknowledged within Communications as one of he great problems with interplanetary messaging. Every planet had a different meaning assigned to different sets of seemingly random letters and symbols.

"Our ETA to the – umm…." The Helmsman's voice trailed. "Should I just call it the Intersection, sir?" Spock felt a second brow rise – he could not recall when the first had risen.

Kirk was clearly repressing a smile. "For this mission, sure. But there are other Intersections in the Federation, name it in full after this one."

The Lieutenant nodded. "Yessir. We'll be at the Intersection in about forty minutes."

The Captain nodded. "Good." He reached down to his chair's armrest to comm Lieutenant Scott in Engineering. "Scotty, how's she doing?"

The Engineer's thick brogue came over the line. "Shih's fine, sir. 'Would help th' boys down here to know what whe're gettin' inta, though."

The Captain's brow furrowed. "Damn that's right," he murmured. Then, louder, "Alright Scotty, keep her healthy." The connection was closed as the blonde turned once again to Lieutenant Uhura.

"Lieutenant, I'm…" Kirk tone trailed, and he smiled apologetically at the Communications officer. "Sorry for piling it all on right now. Can you send out a mission description for me?"

The Captain's rather submissive behavior was not customary amongst the majority of ship's captain's, but Uhura clearly appreciated the gesture. "Yessir. What's confidential?"

Kirk frowned and peered over his shoulder to Spock. "What do you think, Commander? Confidentiality isn't my strong suit."

Illogical. The Captain had shown a great talent for keeping or revealing valuable information at their proper times in the past.

His confusion must have shown, somehow, because Jim quickly explained.

"I'm no good at figuring out what Barnett thinks I shouldn't tell my crew."

Ah. Yes. Kirk had been reprimanded in the past for telling too many of the ship's personnel the entirety of the information on the situation at hand. The practice had saved approximately twenty-seven lives so far. The Commodore's irritation at the practice was unknown, but Spock was attempting to find out.

"It is unlikely that the Commodore will want the name of the specific communications company at fail revealed to everyone on board. And it is improbable that the Commodore will want the extent of Tellaritian involvement publicized, either."

Kirk jerked a thumb in the hybrid's direction. "What he said."

Lieutenant Uhura nodded, and an announcement detailing the unfortunate communications problems of Terra could soon be heard playing over the ship. 

The Captain – no, Kirk – swiveled over in Spock's direction. "Anything else, Commander? I'm pretty much out."

Of ideas? Of energy? "Captain?"

"Is there anything else we should be doing, do you think?"

Of ideas. "Has Communications worked to increase their long range capabilities? The Enterprise will most likely be ordered to direct inter-planetary transmissions as opposed to more localized communications."

Captain Kirk raised his brows in query to Uhura, who nodded in the affirmative. "We're on it already, sir."

"Excellent." The blonde then twisted back to Spock, who also got the eyebrow-query. Spock nodded in the negative, and Kirk sighed backwards into his chair. For the next forty minutes, there was naught to do but wait.

.bdobd.

Chosen had been T'Panya for the going aboard of the Enterprise. Nowmi _(Miss)_ was to go also, being as she was a reporter.

Excited was Nowmi _(Miss)_ for the boarding the Enterprise. Wanted to meet the Captain Kirk, she did. Pleased would it be for herself to meet the Commander S'chn T'gai Spock: well spoken of he was by T'Pau and T'Palek, of house of Stonn also.

Now were at he main station of Tellar, waiting for the arrival of the Enterprise.

"Isn't this fantastic?" Nowni _(Miss)_ said. Excited tone hers was – very. A moment T'Panya took to translate Nowmi _(Miss)_'s words.

"Indeed. Are we to be met by an official welcoming party?"

A very oddly structured language, was Standard. Wrongly placed were the subjects and verbs. A moment, Nowmi _(Miss)_ took to recall. "I don't think so. I'm not even sure they know we're coming yet."

The crew knew not of their arrival? A social gaff was it not considered to arrive without warning? "Why have they not been informed?"

The shoulders of Nowmi _(Miss)_ were raised: shrug. "Not sure. But I didn't see any of our drivers call in to say that we'd arrived."

Shuffled the words were of the sentence: _'Our drivers – call in… – I did not see,'_ "Valid. When are we to depart?"

"Half an hour," said Nowmi _(Miss)_. "We're supposed to track life on the Enterprise. What it's like to be there in person."

"Surely such a goal would be better met by the effected requesting tenure about the ship."

"Well, yes. But not everyone can do that. So we're doing it for everyone else."

"But to experience suck things are a privilege granted to those who have proven themselves worthy of being aboard."

Exhibited displeasure did the face of Nowmi _(Miss)._ "I guess. But breaking barriers is my job, isn't it?" Pleasure, now, positive emotion, the face of Nowmi _(Miss)_ showed.

Confused was T'Panya. Discussing not were they of barriers, but of rewards. A privilege, knowledge of the workings of the Enterprise was. Rewards not did go to those unworthy.

Repressed T'Panya did of an emotional expression of displeasure. Understand did not Nowmi _(Miss)._

From the docking platform did sound a low roar. Coming, the Enterprise was.

.bdobd.

Jim frowned unconsciously as the Enterprise was lowered into the Tellaritian dock. This whole this was so _weird._

He'd expected frantic directions to say, order the Communications team down to Tellar to help with the frequencies when the ship'd arrived at the Intersection. Instead a frantic Pike had told them all to 'Get down to Tellar's top dock, you'll be met there,' and then signed off without so much as an update on Earth's situation.

Also, there were war too many people waiting at the dock, it looked like a swarm of bees instead of the customary four or five dignitaries present for a disaster of this magnitude.

Jim swiveled over to talk to Spock, who was immersed in an absorbing something-or-other. The blonde strolled over ho the Vulcans chair and peered obtrusively over his shoulder.

Spock looked up, careful of his nose. "Yes, Captain?"

"You have any idea who all those people are?"

The Commander looked to his viewscreen, which was trained to the crowd. "The majority of them appear to be media personnel."

Jim groaned. "Oh, _shit_. I _hate_ camera crew."

"Four of them have brought personal effects." The viewscreen zoomed in on a pack that'd arrived laden with suitcases and packages.

"They don't expect to come on _here_, do they?"

"They expect to go some place for an extended period of time. They also seem to expect to film there as well.: A zoom on two of the bulkier packages showed labels reading 'AppleIntel' – two huge Terran tech companies that'd merged in the 2050's. They specialized in communications equipment.

"_Fuck_ me. Do you remember Pick saying anything?"

"Negative."

"Aah! I wish they'd _tell_ me these –!"

"Message on channel 2 for the Captain: origin, Starfleet Command," Uhura announced.

Kirk dashed back over to his chair. "Mainscreen."

Pick's now vaguely hysterical maw filled the screen. His tone was commendably steady, though his voice was a bit higher pitched then usual. "Kirk! Barnett cut a deal: media doesn't announce Valpac, media gets on the Enterprise. I don't think it'll work, but there're four people down there that've been promised that you'll take 'em."

"Can I back out? I man, we're gonna be stupidly busy, this job wasn't made to be family-friendly –,"

"They are coming on your ship and they are staying." Spock moved to stand beside the Captain's chair, hovering almost protectively over him.

Kirk sighed. "How long?"

Pike squirmed. "A while."

"A while?" Kirk's tone blackened and he scowled, "What do you mean, 'a while'? How long am I going to have strangers on my ship?"

Pike shook his. "I don't have any idea. I don't think anyone does, now."

"_Fuck_ me." Kirk flopped back into his chair. "Are they to be transporting in, or are we sending out a pod?"

"They're probably expecting a shuttle, but beam 'em up. The less camera time, the better, right now."

"Right. Can you get them to move to a good coordinate? I don't want to get half of one and two thirds of another."

Pike shuffled for something on his desk. "… Done. They'll be at 15-10-8 North-Southeast in five."

"Thanks." The blonde paused. "Well, I mean –,"

The older man smiled wanly. "I know. They'll be gone soon enough."

"I sure as hell hope so."

"Think of it as another mission. People skills, or something."

Kirk threw his mentor a look. "We both know that's bullshit."

Pike shrugged. "Call it 'bovine feces' in front of the cameras, make Barnett happy."

"Gotcha. Anything else?"

"No. Sorry about this. Pike out."

"You know I'm not annoyed at you. Kirk out."

The screen cleared as Kirk _fwuff_ed tiredly and turned to Uhura. "Send those numbers down to Scotty, tell 'im to get 'em up fast, and to make sure to get all their bags."

"Yessir."

"Spock, walk with me."

"Yes, Captain."

.bdobd.


	3. Introductions

A/N:OMGOMGOMG I'm SO SORRY! I'd thought I'd posted this two weeks, Gahh, I feel like an IDIOT! Grr! Alright, so, yeah, that's why you get two chapters at once. I'm so, so, so sorry for the lag.

.bdobd.

Zeb's surprise at the sudden teleportation gave way to anger the moment she stepped out of the transporter room. She could swear that the security personnel who'd been sent as escort were rolling their eyes.

"The fuck? What was _that_ all about? You couldn't've just sent a shuttle or something, a _random beam?_ Really? I want to speak with your Captain, I do _not_ accept the idea that there was _any _good reason to be _dragged_ aboard like inanimate –,"

They stepped into a turbolift and one of the red-shirted men pressed a button. "Bridge," he announced.

"_Thank_ you. I need to –,"

These industrial strength lifts were stupidly fast, something that Zeb'd forgotten to take into account. She was thrown to the floor as the lift took off, not having seen the security people grab those little handles on the walls, she'd been railing so hard.

T'Panya _had_ grabbed one of the handles, and bent down to pick up her superior and Nala, who'd been coerced into coming at the very very last minute, pretty much against her will, and who'd also preformed a truly spectacular face plant.

The cameraman, apparently used to these military-styled lifts, had, like the escorts, somehow stayed standing. Bastard.

T'Panya was who first spoke when the lift doors suddenly parted onto the Bridge of the ship that'd saved the universe.

"We come to serve, and are appreciative of your hospitality."

She seemed to be speaking into thin air, the Captain wasn't even on-bridge –

The centerpiece of the famous room, a large chair, suddenly spun to reveal an attractive blonde human. The famous Captain Kirk.

"Ms. Nowmi, Ms. Nala, T'Panya, Mr. Stevens. Your service honors us. Welcome to the Enterprise." Captain Kirk stood and strode fluidly over to the stunned group, stopping next to T'Panya to look admiringly at his chair.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

T'Panya looked at him with a confusion that was obvious even to Zeb.

"The chair, Captain?"

Kirk looked surprised. "Well, yes. That's what you came to film, right?"

T'Panya blinked quietly at him. "… No, Captain."

The Captain looked back to the chair, then frowned playfully. "Liar. You totally cam here to film my magnificent chair. I was just blocking the view." He looked to the cameraman… Stevens? "Better shot, right?"

Stevens nodded gravely. "Yessir, sir. You always want to focus on the thing with the most presence. 'Should always dominate the shot." Stevens shifted the camera so it was centered totally on Kirk, who frowned, genuinely this time.

"That's not _on_, is it?"

"Well, yessir, sir."

Kirk shook his head. "No camera on bridge without my express permission. I told Giotto to tell you." He narrowed his eyes at the man who was suddenly obvious as the famed Security chief.

"She wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise, Captain. There wasn't a chance."

The Captain quirked a brow and turned to Zeb. "Were you harassing my Security Chief?"

Zeb froze suddenly at the sudden address. She eventually managed a stunted reply. "… I didn't mean to, sir."

The blonde brows flew with disbelief. "Really? Well," he turned to Mr. Stevens, "here's your first rule: No camera on bridge, in hall, or in rec room. And not in private areas, either, those have that title for a reason."

The trio (T'Panya was exempt) blinked at him in horror. That was practically the _entire ship._

"Without express permission of all those to be on camera, of course."

Mr. Stevens spluttered a protest. "Sir, there's no way to _do that_ –,"

Commander Spock _appeared_ at Kirk's side wearing an un-frown that could peel paint. Mr. Stevens submitted with a whimper.

"But, Captain," Nala pleaded, "we can't do our jobs without _filming_."

Kirk looked sympathetic, but Spock seemed _supremely_ unimpressed, rather like that one professor everyone had that didn't accept late work, even if you were busy, like, saving the free world.

"I'm sorry," Kirk said, "but I will not let my crew be taken advantage of. They won't be filmed without their permission and knowledge."

"But your _workplaces_ are labeled private," Stevens protested.

Kirk nodded. "For good reason. I didn't expect you to get this immediately, but we _live_ here." He looked to each of them in turn. "This is our _home_. We'll live here for more than four years. You won't film in our homes. Not without our knowing about it, at any rate."

"Then where –?"

"Mess hall, that's communal," Kirk interrupted. "Some rec rooms with verbal permission of everyone present. Labs, you need Commander Spock's written permission. Bridge, with written permission from me, Commander Spock, and Lieutenant-Commander Giotto. That should be plenty for now."

Nala threw a small panicked look to the Commander. Zeb had to resist the strong urge to do the same: There was _no way_ that the Commander was signing _anything_. None.

Kirk noticed their looks and turned to the Commander. "Anything to add, Mr. Spock?"

The Commander nodded a slow no after a moment's thought. "Negative. Who is to inform the group of the general rules of the ship?"

"Giotto, you think you can handle them?" Kirk asked.

The red shirted man nodded. "No issues."

"Good." He turned to her. "Lieutenant-Commander Giotto will show you to your quarters. He'll be telling you most of the important stuff, so treat him good."

Zeb nodded. "Right." She turned to exit, but was stopped by a hand on her arm.

Kirk was smiling indulgently. "First rule: Don't leave until I dismiss you. Alright?"

Nala, who'd hightailed it out of the Bridge, scurried back. "Yes, Captain," Zeb responded.

"Dismissed." The Captain turned back to his chair, and Commander Spock walked back to his station. Lieutenant Giotto waked out of the Bridge and waited for the group to follow.

"Are you coming?" They all stiffened and scurried to the Security Officer, who started the lift. Zeb made sure to grab one of those cute little handles this time, but it didn't stop her knees from protesting loudly at their suddenly poor treatment.

"Your quarters are all on Deck G." The walls of the Enterprise flashed by through the lift's clean walls. "You'll have rooms 4-7, you can choose who gets which –,"

"There's someone out there!" Nala'd jumped to one of the walls and was looking up, "they were hanging there –!"

"Maintenance personnel. They'll be checking the circuits; we had a drill a few days ago that went wrong."

Zeb, who'd moved to stare up at the rapidly disappearing Andorian tech, spun about to face the Lieutenant. "Wrong? How wrong?"

The lift doors opened and Giotto exited, forcing the other four to shuffle gracelessly after him. "One of the lifts jammed. Nothing too serious. Now," he stepped in front of a door, "you open these by typing in your security code. You'll have to reset yours when you choose your rooms – there's a panel by the door, very simple, it'll walk you through it.

"Any codes you set can be overridden by the Captain, the Commander, and Doctor McCoy and his head Nurse. Who I'm pretty sure's Chapel now, M'Benga was promoted, I think."

The Lieutenant cocked his head to the side introspectively. "Yeah, Chapel'll be able to get in." He seemed to shake himself a little before continuing. "Replicators are in the mess hall on Deck J. You can either order something specific from the code lists next to them, or press five random numbers in and see what happens. Just make sure the cod ends in '32' so it'll be edible."

He turned to T'Panya with a slight respectful smile. "It just has to end in '2' for you, but if you want vegetarian the second number's gotta be 4. But it's made of the same proteins, so everything's already technically vegan."

He turned back to the majority of the group. "You've got some Bridge clearance, go on when you please, basically, those written permission things don't take long to file – 'cept during alerts, you'll need the Captain's verbal approval for that – and you can film in there too, with the right form – those're on your PADDs –,"

Giotto suddenly seemed to recognize that they didn't have PADDs. "You'll get those tomorrow, I guess. Swing by Deck H around fourteen thirty hours, room H-7, ask for Yeoman Rand, she'll help you – ask for the media PADD files, she should have finished uploading everything a while ago."

He turned introspective again. He seemed to lose his train of thought often, a trait Zeb had not assumed came with the common Security Chief. Honestly though, she didn't think she would be able to remember half of this.

"Oh, right." _'Damn it!'_ "You'll need consent from any filming in the rec rooms and Scotty's dens though, they're –,"

"Scotty's dens?" Nala asked. Zeb needed to talk with her about that, it wasn't good to interrupt superior officers…

"Engineering section. He'll let you know where they are: If you walk in with a camera and you have to duck a heavy object, you can't film there."

He laughed. "To be honest, sometimes 'Engineering Section' is the entire ship! The Captain loves the ship so much, he lets Scotty have pretty much the full run of the place. Doesn't happen with a lot of Captains, they usually seem pretty afraid of the Engineers. Afraid of mutiny, I think." Giotto shrugged. "But I'm not sure. 'M not a Captain"

"You've worked on a ship before the Enterprise?" Zeb asked.

It was unusual for Enterprise crew to be veteran anything: the flagship was typically the place where the fresh young blood went first, and, as the Enterprise was the only constitution-class starship not to be destroyed, the huge majority of Starfleet was now made of people who'd never worked on more than one ship in their careers.

"Yep. Three. I was injured in an away mission, so I was in the Academy's hospital recovering when the Narada attacked." Giotto smiled ruefully. "I'm one of two people who've worked anywhere else. 'S only me and M'Benga, and for him it was just the Potemkin." He rolled his eyes. "And that ship practically doesn't count."

Zeb cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"Every ship has its own culture. The Potemkin is filled with idiots who can't work anywhere else or geniuses who've done something to piss off the Admiralty." He grinned. "Scotty and the Captain would've been Potemkin. No question about it."

"Are such classifications planned, or are they adaptations made by their crews?" T'Panya asked.

"Totally random."

Stevens was clearly dying to turn on his camera. "Do you give consent to –?"

Giotto grinned at him. "No camera. And the stereotypes stay with the ships, too. I've heard the Potemkin and Excalibur II's are the same as the originals."

"What were the Excaliburs like?"

Giotto snorted. "'Thought that just because they were named after a famous weapon it gave them permission to be assholes. Most arrogant people I've ever met served on the Excalibur. Trigger happy, too. Those guys were _never_ sent on First Contacts or diplomatic missions. Ever."

Nala smiled at the Security man. "What're the Enterprise's people like?"

"Us?" Giotto seemed surprised by the question. "Well, it's hard to tell from inside the ship what other people think _about_ said ship, but…

"We're usually sent on the more dangerous away missions. And we've gotten _all_ of the First Contacts so far, so we're seen as the best representatives of the Federation among all the ships. But that's from the Admiralty's point of view. So either we're seen as the Admiralty's pawn, or we're lucky and getting all the good stuff…"

He grinned. "Or we're just that awesome. Ask the Captain, he'll tell you that." He hummed softly. "I know that we're seen as having the cream of the crop, which is actually pretty unusual for the flagship: Usually we're the guys with the smoothest talkers.

"And we have the best Communications team there is, hands down. And a fantastic Engineering section. Bloody brilliant, they are."

"You're leaving out yourself, again." The Captain had come striding down the hall, full of cheer, just in time to catch Giotto's last comments.

Giotto turned to him beaming. "I was working up to us. Leaving the best for last, and all that."

Kirk put on some mock distress, "What? What about me-_ee_? Don't you love me_-ee_?"

Giotto was clearly hiding a laugh. "Well, I mean, you're _okay_ –,"

Kirk put up a melodramatic hand to stop him. "No! No! No more, I couldn't stand it!"

The red-shirted man was now snickering softly. "It's not like you've headed all of the most successful away missions, and aced all of the decent First Contacts…"

"What happened to you? I'll have you know – if you already forgotten, you _must_ be getting old – that you were_ with me_ on all of those."

"Ahh, but I was not_ leading_ said missions."

"Bullshit! You're the guy that got me out of all of the prisons and torture chambers and shit that I was stupid enough to get trapped in –,"

"Not stupid, you're just fantastically unlucky. It's kind of amazing."

Kirk preened. "It's past time that you realized: _Everything_ about me is fantastic."

Nala smothered a laugh, and the blonde turned to her with a big grin. "See? _She _understands." He shot Giotto a fake glare. "You should be taking a page out of _her_ book."

Giotto shook his head ruefully and sighed hugely. "Yes, sir."

Kirk snickered softly. "Very well. Be well, Lieutenant-Commander."

Giotto smiled and bowed. "You too, sir."

"Excellent. Dismissed." And he walked off.

Stevens leaned closer to the Security Chief. "If he says we're dismissed, and then _he_ walks off…"

"Then you stay put and do what you were doing beforehand. It's like an 'at ease', but not really. It's more like, 'This is your cue to stop paying attention to me.' Like a 'Carry on'." He turned introspective. Again. "Sorta. I guess."

He shook himself, again. "You guys have any questions?"

T'Panya flicked her fingers softly in the affirmative. "When are we to sleep? Are there predetermined hours to do so?"

"Well, kinda." The man looked thoughtfully at one of the sirens built into the walls. "You'll probably want to be on Alpha and Beta shift, that's 0800 to 2300, so, with an hour to eat, you'll have 2400 to 0700 to sleep, Standard time.

"But, since you're media," he continued quickly at the human's shocked expressions, "you really won't be held to that." He turned to the Vulcan again, "And you don't _need_ to sleep when you're off shift, I've honestly never seen the Commander more than two halls away from the labs when he's off duty."

T'Panya nodded. "Acceptable."

The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows and grinned a bit. "I sure as hell hope so: You'll be doing it every day for the next month at the least."

Nala blinked at him. "What?"

He chuckled in what Zeb judged to be a slightly sadistic manner. "You think you're getting _weekends?_ What starship has days off?"

He then inclined his head slightly and murmured something too low to hear, then left.

Zeb turned to T'Panya as Giotto clicked down the hall. "What'd he say?"

One of the Vulcan's eyebrows was nearly hidden within her bangs, but she shook her head. "Naught of true import."

.bdobd.

Nowmi's show as broadcast from rec room four-and-three-quarters that day. The additional 75% of the room was due to the '2' of the original plaque reading 'REC ROOM 42' being shot off the an 'issue with some Klingons'.

The scar left from the blast had been a diagonal line suitable for the addition of a fraction, so some 'Enterprising' soul – Lieutenant Barrows' words – had stenciled in a '3' and a '4', with the Captain's total knowledge and to his great amusement.

All of this was according to Lieutenants Barrows, C'Path, Etwan, and Yeoman Se'foma. They also said that the '3/4' idea was the direct result of the great majority of the crew being 'unrepentant nerds of the highest caliber' [Lt. Etwan].

Apparently, everyone having read 21st century novels with a passion 'that only the truly geeky possessed' [Ym. Se'foma] had manifested itself in various places across the ship, but those spots wouldn't be revealed until Nowmi'd managed to figure out the title and author of the book that'd played the muse in the situation.

Zara-Beth recited all of this with considerable amusement, and the assistance of a variety of crewpeople – those of the Enterprise being naturally disposed towards curiosity [Lt. C'Path] – popping periodically into the rec room to offer corrections to all of the stories.

A large collection of crewpeople gathered to remark loudly upon Nowmi's coverage of the late-breaking news that the Terran communications service had been cut due to a typing error.

.bdobd.

Shrieks of righteous indignation could be heard down the hall and up two decks and through the Bridge's lift, where Jim stood, zooming down to herd his excitable and not-very-politically-correct crew away from live cameras.

One of the benefits of being Captain, he decided, was that, upon entering a room, the crew _had_ to shut up respectfully, if only for a few moments.

The blonde put on his best Captain's Tone. "All of my crew: Out!"

The crew also had to listen to the Captain, though they _could_ send him pitiful, beseeching glances as they obeyed said orders.

T'Panya, who was standing beside the cameraman (who was shaking with silent laughter), looked _distinctly_ amused. Jim threw her a grin, then turned to Nowmi.

"What'd you _say?_"

She swiveled a bit to answer him. "I told them about the mis-type."

Spock actually slid in, he'd been moving so fast. "Captain, approximately forty members of the crew are experiencing symptoms of emotional distress encountered here' have you encountered any likely stimuli?"

Jim gave him a negative nod. "Not yet. Ms. Nowmi hasn't told me it yet."

"Valpac's secretary was updating the United Asian Emirates' contract when she – I'm assuming a she –," Nowmi looked to her PADD, "they don't say, when she was supposed to enter in 'U.A.E.', the anachronism for United Asia, she put in 'U.E.A.', the anachronism for United Earth."

Spock's brows flew. Jim tried _desperately_ to suppress a burst of laughter. He settled for a snort. Of _course_ it was something as stupid as that. "A _typing error? _Really?"

"Yep. Nowmi grinned past the quietly disapproving semi-Vulcan. "Your crew didn't seem to like that very much."

Jim smiled. "Yeah, they're an opinioned bunch." He pointed to the camera. "Are we live?"

Nowmi grinned in response, spun around and said, "And here, ladies and gentlemen, is the illustrious Captain Kirk, here with Commander Spock in –,"

"Shii-_iiii_t" Jim lowed painfully.

Spock peered at the camera with concern. "What is this show's maturity rating?"

"Nothing low enough to worry about," Nowmi answered over her shoulder, before continuing in her address to the camera. "Valpac has sent out an official apology and Starfleet, Andoria, and Tellar have been called upon to pick up the communications needs of Earth.

"Both of the planets have agreed and gone on the record expressing polite disbelief at the need for a governmental branch and two planets."

Jim snorted contemptuously. "They don't know panicked humans. They'll be overrun in a week."

"Less time would be necessary for a total breakdown of Andoria's channel strength, if post-Narada levels of channel usage is reached by Earth's population," T'Panya amended.

Jim looked to her in query, "How long would it take?"

"A maximum of three days would be needed for Andorian's channels to –,"

"Breaking news, the UP reports 'Widespread breakdowns of Andorian channels, the presumable result of shared responsibilities of Earth's communications use'," Nowmi read from her constantly updating PADD.

Spock turned to her with a disbelieving brow and she handed him the computer. He scrolled silently for a moment, a second brow soon joining the first, and handed the PADD to Jim, who sighed.

"Never underestimate a human's ability to destroy resources. If Andoria crashes, can Tellar and the Fleet pick up the slack?"

"No," Spock said. "The entire system will collapse if Andoria's does. All are intertwined."

Kirk closed his eyes in a doomed attempt to regain whatever composure he had. "Did _anyone _plan for _any_ of this?"

"Sort of," Nowmi responded. "The Enterprise is on a different system than the rest of the Federation's planets. Apparently the Council'd planned for a maximum of two planets going under at once, and gave Starfleet primary responsibility if anything happened."

"Fine, but Starfleet's busy just with everyone who's trying to use the Terran alert numbers." All of those 911, 411, 123, and 707 calls had to go _somewhere._

"Right."

Kirk stared expectantly at the reporter. She didn't say anything else. He motioned for her to continue. She still didn't continue.

"Argh!" Kirk walked over to the wall off camera and began purposefully banging his head on it. "Why. [thunk] Won't. [thunk] The Admiralty. [thunk] _Tell me this shit?_ [twack]."

Spock had, but the end of Jim's short monologue, managed to wedge the heel of his hand between the human's head and the Enterprise's tiles, with accounted for the change in timber.

Kirk _fwuff_ed heavily and was turning about to go back on camera to take a moral high ground when his comm chirruped.

He grabbed it with a speed born of desperation. "What?"

It was Uhura's second-in-command, Lieutenant Barre. She sounded stunned. "The Admirals… They just ordered us to pick up the Council from San Francisco."

Both Kirk and Spock, who'd been on their way out the door the moment Barre's stared talking, stopped short. "They said _what?_"

"And they want each Base to have on representative each, from the Second and Fourth quadrants."

Kirk was staring dumbly down at his comm, holding it as though it was liable to explode without the courtesy of a moment's notice. "Who ordered that?"

"Well, the Admirals called…"

"As a group?"

"…More or less."

Kirk waited impatiently for her to continue. "Sir, I really don't think a… description of it would… do it justice. It's better if you just heard it for yourself."

He sighed. "Did they sound angry?"

"Barnett didn't seem too pleased, no."

Kirk stared incredulously at the device. "Barnett? Pleased?"

"He said that 'those Councilpeople wanted themselves aboard the flagship' and that they'd ordered 'an idiot apiece' from each of the Bases."

The two officers blinked at the comm.

"I figured that I'd give you the edited version. There's a full transcript up here."

Kirk could hear the media people perk up at that. " 'Those Councilpeople'?"

Barre's shrug could be _heard_, somehow. "That's what he said."

"Jesus."

"Yeah."

"When are we to be present in San Francisco?" Spock asked.

"Three hours, I think. Barnett said that all of the Councilpeople had to be aboard in five."

_"Three hundred people on ship in five hours!"_

"The six hundred and twenty-eight members of the crew on shore leave were boarded in less then half an hour," Spock reminded him.

"They were trained! To obey commands! These people are _paid_ to argue with commands! It's their _jobs_! There's no _way_ I can get them all on in five hours!"

"…So we're not going to Earth?" Barre mewled plaintively.

"Wha?" Kirk was almost offended. "Of course we are! Order Warp 6 for Starfleet HQ. There's just no way to get this to _work_, though."

"ETA for Starfleet is one-and-a-half hours, Captain!" Sulu called from the Bridge.

"Fine, fine. Bridge personnel meeting in ten, we gotta figure this out." Kirk flicked the comm shut and rounded on a quartet of hopeful faces and an infuriated Spock.

"No. You may _not_ film the meeting. No way."

Ms. Nala visibly deflated and T'Panya even seemed put out. "Can we film it, buy not broadcast it live? For future reference?" Nowmi asked.

Jim considered it uncomfortably. "I really don't think that's a good idea. What's said about the Councilpeople… won't be p.c., let's just leave it at that."

Nowmi brightened. "That's exactly what we want to shoot, the real discussions that –,"

"Real discussions' would be rendered impossible by your presence. It is not possible," Spock interrupted.

Jim turned to him with considerable surprise. Spock hadn't sounded so pissed since that Vulcan High Councilmember'd tried to defend inviting Klingons into Federation space.

Spock caught the look and receded sulkily, practically buzzing with displeasure.

Ms. Nowmi didn't seem offended. "Not even a remote camera?"

"_No._"

Misses Nowmi and Nala were clearly unhappy, but T'Panya and the cameraman looked like they'd just had some long-held expectation met. Kirk was actually tempted to relent at that, but caught himself just in the nick of time: this would not be a meeting he'd want recorded, in any way.

"Come one, Commander." Jim motioned out the door. "We're got too much to do in too little time, as usual."

Spock nodded to him, but kept tabs on the media crew's position form the corner of his eye. If he'd been human, he would've backed out of the room with obvious paranoia, as it was, his almost comical levels of suspicion were almost _visible_.

The hybrid was silent on the lift to the main meeting room. He was clearly irritated. Jim pressed for the lift to stop and turned to the testy man carefully.

"Hey. Are you alright?"

Spock straightened to an uncomfortable degree. "Yes."

Jim hesitated slightly before continuing. "Are you sure? You seemed really…" he foundered a bit for the right word, "overly concerned with the media people."

Spock was shooting daggers. They were sharp and pointy and shiny and left little unpleasant pinpricks on the back of Jim's neck. "To what are you referring, Captain?"

Oh, dear. Back to titles now. "You just seemed quick to refuse access, that's all. Next time I'd appreciate it if you talked to me before issuing an executive override like that."

Spock must have only _seemed_ to stiffen further' there was no way such a thing was physically possible. "I apologize, Captain. My behavior was out of line." He hesitated – actually hesitated – before saying, "Do you wish for me to invite the media personnel to the meeting?" in a vaguely strained voice.

"No, no, no!" Jim rushed to reply, "Your assumption was right; I just need those consultation rights. This isn't something that should be filmed.

Spock nodded quietly. Jim looked at him a while longer, sighed, and restarted the lift. He chose to ignore Spock's suddenly confused expression.

.bdobd.


	4. Plague Prep

A/N: I'm SO sorry for the lag, I got stupidly sick and then I realized that I'd run out of Plot for the second half of the next chapter, so I had to do **that**, and… Yeah. So. Anyway, this is a bit short, but the next scene was just too big to fit in here. It'll be the beginning of the next part.

Also: There is a LOT of name dropping in here. I really didn't mean it to happen that way. Don't worry too much about the names, I'll try to put in reminders of who everyone is throughout the story. If you ever get confused, put it in a review and I'll fix it so that this sprawling mess is something-approaching legible.

'Q-4' is the same as 'Quadrant 4'. It's just a mouthful to say 'Quadrant' three times a sentence, it makes sense to me that the word would be abbreviated, like 'mph'.

I have absolutely no canatonical evidence to back this up, but I have decided that Quadrant 2 and Quadrant 4 are about opposite each other, with Earth in the middle of the two.

Confidants are people assigned to be friendly with higher-ups in order to get information.

.bdobd.

Lieutenant-Commander Giotto's forehead had met his palms with a sharp slap halfway through the Captain's mission dossier. The obviously distressed man was lowing painfully not one minute after its completion. "Why-_y_? Why-_y_? Why _us_? Whatever happened to _forewarning_ and _preparation_ and –,"

"They junked it along with the Fleet's annual budget projections," Sulu interrupted gloomily.

"So vhat are ve going to do?" Chekov asked.

"Th' transporta's been workin' well Cap'm, but Ah'll have 'er checked again," Commander Scott said.

"I've already asked for beam coordinates, and a full list should be on the way," Uhura interjected.

Doctor McCoy was the only inhabitant whose emotional state approached that of Lieutenant-Commander Giotto's. "We don't even know who's coming _on_ yet? How'm I supposed to prepare for patients that I don't even know the _species_ of, let alone any individual problems!"

"Approximately four hundred and thirty-seven people should be expected to arrive."

Lieutenant-Commander Giotto gave voice to what sounded like a sob. Uhura closed her eyes in silent trepidation. Commander Scott groaned. Doctor McCoy mouthed quiet nonsense at him. Kirk took a steadying breath.

"Alright. Well, the crew'll have to double up, obviously. We'll be at about 150% current capacity, and we're rated for 300%, so it _could_ be worse."

"Do weh' know how theh'll expect to come up?" Commander Scott asked. "More than two hundreh's no' good fo' the transporta'."

"Five hours is insufficient time to pilot a shuttlecraft to the Council, load the pods, and return to the Enterprise."

"Could they fly up to us?" Lieutenant Sulu asked.

Lieutenant Commander Giotto raised his head from his hands to shake in the negative. "I'd need to confirm and check every pod, it'd take even longer."

"I can see how the Council'd be picked up," Doctor McCoy mused, "but I don't see how the Base people're gonna be able to get on."

"We're getting the ones in Quadrant 2 on the way there," Sulu replied thoughtfully, "and if we keep going past Earth to get the ones in Quadrant 4, and then circle back, but I don't know if there's enough time…"

"Zat plan leawes only an hour to peeck up ze Counceel."

"Well, yeah, that's the problem."

"You know," Uhura addressed the ceiling, "they want to come aboard _us._ If I just say that they have forty-five minutes to get on, then there'll be enough of a panic to get them all…"

The crew was silent as they remembered the panic on the Base, and Uhura winced slightly as she realized that she had just recommended the exact same procedure.

"Sulu, what's our current path?" the Captain asked.

"We're on a direct route to Earth."

"Humm…"

"I think the Bases should be ordered to fly their reps out, that's reasonable," Lieutenant-Commander Giotto said, "it's checking four hundred private Council craft that I can't do."

"Really?" The Captain visibly brightened. "I didn't order that because I wasn't sure what you could handle, but that would make everything a lot easier. The Base reps from Q-4 could get on before we even docked at Starfleet."

"The Bases'll only fly out about fifty pods, that's easy."

The Captain nodded with clear satisfaction. "Good. The Base'll fly out their people, and we can be done with that before we have to deal with the Council."

"Should I order a transmission, sir?" Uhura asked.

The Captain nodded. "Make it Priority 2, I don't want anyone stranded."

She nodded, and sent the order up to Lieutenant Barre.

"What are the Admirals to do?" Spock asked.

Kirk turned to him in slight confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Are the Admirals to stay on Earth, or come aboard the Enterprise?"

"They said they'd be coming up," Uhura volunteered.

Kirk swallowed nervously. He looked to the security camera that was whirring softly in a corner of the ceiling. "Computer, acknowledge Captain James T. Kirk. Order Code Psi-Omicron-Delta-4."

The camera hummed for a few moments. "… Acknowledged."

It shut itself off.

The Captain turned back to the crew, who were staring at him with considerable surprise. "I thought you couldn't turn off the security cameras," Sulu murmured.

"The Captain, First Officer, and Security Chief are exempt form that ruling," corrected Spock. Such was only to be done in situation in which no other solution is available. The only situation that Spock could imagine causing the Captain such distress would be…

"Are you to assign confidants now, sir?" the hybrid asked.

Kirk suppressed a full-body wince with difficulty. This decision was clearly not one that he enjoyed.

Confidants were assigned to those of high ranking with surprising frequency. A subordinate with control over others of even lower ranking would order a low-level employee to work themselves into the good graces of the superior with the purpose of either gathering information that they would not have otherwise obtained, or to alter the behavior of the superior.

Such was actually legal, in exceptionally specific circumstances. If the superiors were being somehow deficient in their duties, then confidants could be assigned to change their ideals for the better. But what had the Admiralty done that had been so disturbing to the Captain?

Kirk leaned forward with a sigh. "Listen. I don't want to do this."

He looked in turn to every crewmember, each of which looked either stunned or horrified, or some combination of such. "I mean, I _really_ don't want to do this. Confidant is a dangerous position."

Kirk _fwuff_ed tiredly. "But I need to know why the Admirals are doing what they are with the Fleet. Something's off. Half of the starships I've talked to haven't gotten any of the supplies they've asked for. We've all been trying to figure out why, but no one can do it."

"Who's 'we'?" McCoy asked.

"The starship Captains. We have joint meetings once a week."

Spock looked to Kirk sharply. He had not known this. It was possible that Kirk had been made to promise not to inform any crew of lower rank of the meetings, but that Kirk would agree to such terms was highly irregular.

Giotto was confused. "I didn't know that all the Captains talked together. Wasn't that one of the Fleet's biggest problems, that there wasn't any communication between the Captains?"

Kirk nodded. "It _was_ a big problem. After the Narada, though, we couldn't afford that. None of us knew what the fuck we were supposed to be doing." He shrugged. "It was more a support group than anything else."

"So vhy do ze Keptins need _us_? Zhey are not our Keptin."

"Our Admirals aren't telling us what we need anymore."

Spock raised an eyebrow. " 'Our' Admirals?"

"Well, we all've got our favorite. I happen to like Pike. Tranya likes R'Vish. Nimeret likes Bolim." He shrugged. "'S only natural."

Sulu muttered a quick calculation under his breath. "Wait. There're two too any Admirals."

"Barnett's the Commodore, he's different. And Hivash is apparently all about Medical." Kirk looked to McCoy for confirmation.

The Doctor nodded slowly. "I guess so. I never really noticed it myself, but actually, come to think of it, I do talk to her pretty regularly, I guess."

Spock was introspective. "Interesting. I usually converse with Commodore Barnett. I believe the majority of the First Officers do as well."

Giotto nodded. "Yeah, I remember Johnai saying something like that. R'Vish's the one that the Security people seem to like the most."

"Nestly for us," Uhura mused. "He's the guy who does our yearly overviews."

"I haven't heard anything like that for Helm," Sulu remarked with a frown. "I mean, no one seems to hate us or anything, but –,"

Chekov snorted. "Bah! Feel lucky. I have never heard of a meeting wiz Hiwash zat vent vell for a Tactician."

"Really?" Jim was surprised, "She seemed pretty low-key to me."

The Russians' face twisted. "She has not ewer had anyzing to do wiz Tactical. He hates us."

The hybrid's left eyebrow rose to join its comrade, whose ascent Spock had not tracked. "That is highly improbable."

"Eh. I can believe it. Calta never seemed too pleased with Communications. He always blames us when First Contacts go wrong."

"Weally? Calta has always been wery pleasant during owersight."

"Well, Calta and Nestly _do_ hate each other," Jim mused.

"Nestly? Really? What happened?"

"I don't know any details, but _apparently_ there was a First Contact that was an absolute disaster o the ship that the two were serving on."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "And that was what, twenty ears ago?"

"Sixteen," Spock corrected.

Jim turned to him with interest. "You know what happened?"

Spock nodded after a beat. There was no harm in imparting public information. "… Yes. At the time, both Calta and Nestly were serving aboard the ship Excalibur."

Lieutenant-Cmdr Giotto, Lieutenant Sulu, Ensign Chekov, and Dr McCoy all groaned knowledgably. Spock was confused. "I'll tell you about _that_ later. It takes a while to explain," Jim said, motioning for Spock to continue.

An eyebrow rose blandly, but the hybrid commented no further. "… They were serving aboard the Excalibur when a previously unknown species contacted the ship via subspace frequencies and ordered the ship to leave, as they were encroaching on this people's property."

Spock rearranged his hands in an almost-nervous gesture. "Either Communications sent out an unrecorded attack order to Tactical, or Tactical fired on the people without orders. The result was a planet destroyed without any apparent order form the Captain.

"Admiral Nestly has publically insisted numerous times that it was then Lieutenant-Commander Calta who began the unprovoked assault upon the species without directive. Admiral Calta has stated that then Commander Nestly assumed an attack order was to be called and sent the directive to Tactical without confirmation."

Spock flattened his fingers, the equivalent of a Terran shrug. "Neither situation can be proved as the records that would show the necessary evidence were damaged in the fire that the species managed to return during the battle."

McCoy again rolled his eyes. "Well isn't that just _dandy_. I think they're _both_ idiots."

Uhura was staring with seeming purpose into middle distance. "Wait. But both scenarios are screwy. If Tactical mutinied and shot without orders, the Communications should've been the ones to report it to the Captain to get him to order a cease-fire. And it doesn't really matter if communications sent down a false order, Tactical should've confirmed an attack order with the Captain himself."

Spock nodded. "Indeed."

Jim seemed to wait for him to go on and moaned painfully when he didn't. "_Oiii_. These people are _stupid_." He sighed. "You see? _This_ is why I want confidants on these guys. If I ask the wrong person for the wrong stuff, we won't get _any_ supplies. If I don't know all of this, I'll wind up asking Calta for a Communications upgrade and getting refused, which is what I _think _happened to Nimeav with her annual request."

"Yearly request?" Sulu asked.

"Nimeav filed her annual supply request for food and upgrades and the like. And it was refused! She went around with stores at 17% for _three weeks_ before she called Barnett, and found out that Calta hadn't filed it!"

Kirk ground his teeth. "She said she put in Communications upgrades as top priority, I'm pretty sure that's why Calta didn't approve it."

Uhura looked horrified. "The Endeavour couldn't get _food_ because of an Admiral that didn't like the _Communications request_ that was filed?"

"You see? We've _got _to know this stuff. And now _all_ of the Admirals will be _here_ for at least two weeks; if I don't act on this the Captains will rise as one and _slay me_."

Jim shuddered. "I've _seen_ them talk about Barnett; I wouldn't with that on anyone."

"What do they find deficient in Barnett?" Spock asked quizzically.

Kirk shrugged. "Just something about him rubs them the wrong way. He doesn't really trust any of us, and that's annoying to the people that are out here every day working their asses off for the guy."

The room was quiet as everyone became lost in their own thoughts. "Vhich Admirals are ve to talk to?" Chekov finally asked.

"What do you mean? Pick your favorite. As long as they're all covered, I don't really care.

Chekov nodded, satisfied, but Lieutenant Scott, who had been quiet for the entirety of the topic, suddenly spoke up. "This isn' legal is ih'? Ah can' see 'ow ih could be!"

"It is legal in very specific circumstances," Spock responded. "If the people being spoken with are superiors that have been somehow deficient in their duties, and gathering information in such a manner is the only solution that can be found, then assigning confidants is allowed."

"How?" Lieutenant Scott asked simply.

Spock rearranged his hands again, but it was more of a formal gesture, like steepleing the fingers. "It is seen – in only these circumstances – as a way for subordinates to better work with their superiors. If the superiors can not function properly under the current conditions, then either the environment must be changed, or the superiors must be made to alter their behavior. Confidants are shown as a means to the former end."

"Huh," Uhura said. "I didn't know that."

Spock blinked at her. 'You were to agree to a plan you believed to be illegal?"

She nodded slowly. "Well… Yeah, basically."

He blinked some more, and then turned to Jim with an expression of helplessness. _'Can you believe these people?'_

Jim smiled wanly. _'What did you expect?'_

He did not seem pleased by the crew's devotion, which was strange. It was possible that he believed them harmed by their loyalty. Surely, he did not think himself a leader cruel enough to order them to do the unreasonable.

Scotty was nodding slowly. '… Ahrigh'. If this is abou' th' Fleet the' Ah'll do I'. Ah don' talk to the other Enginem'n much, so Ah'll jus' take whoever's not."

Uhura nodded. "Right. I've got Nestly, then."

"I'll take Hivash, I guess," McCoy said with a shrug.

"I'we got Calta," Chekov stated determinedly.

"R'Vish'll be easy, we already talk a lot," Giotto said.

"I guess I'll take Archer…" Sulu started slowly. "He's always been good about all of those flight simulator upgrades. I think he taught a class in the Academy, too."

"He did: Astronavigation and Steerage." Jim shuddered. "It was a required class, I failed that one _so bad_. Anyway, if I do anyone _other_ than jolly old Pike, they'll _know _something's up."

Uhura snorted. "He's only jolly for _you_. He's absolutely arctic to everyone else."

The blonde grinned cheerfully. "I know, right?" He thought for a moment. "Well, me and Spock."

Uhura nodded. "Well _yeah,_ everyone knows _that_."

"Only Commodore Barnett and Admiral Bolim are still unassigned," Spock mused aloud.

Engineer Scott stiffened. "Ah'm sorry Commanda', you'll no' ge' meh near the Commodoh' wih'ou' a phasah'. Ah'll ta' Bolim, thank yah kindly."

McCoy tried to smother a laugh and failed. "I will speak with the Commodore, then. It should not prove too complex an endeavor."

Kirk nodded happily. "Good! I'm glad that all worked out. Anything I should know before we disband?"

"Ehrm…" Chekov looked uncomfortable. "You vill not be telleeing ze other Keptins, da?"

"Well…" Jim blinked. "I'll tell them that I've got some people set up, but I won't name any names, no."

"And you are sure zat zose lines are secure?"

Jim stared into middle distance. "… Well, yeah, they're Security 2, no one but Captains and –," his eyes widened. "Ah. Yes. I see your point. Well, the Admirals haven't done anything _before_…"

"Perhaps it would be unwise to report the assignment of confidants to Admirals on a line that only Captains and Admirals can use?" Spock queried with a raised brow.

Jim looked to him with exasperation. "Maybe. Is there a way to make it more secure?"

"Affirmative. Shall I report to your quarters later to alter the configurations?"

Jim gave him the look that showed that he had just said something unintentionally inappropriate. It was a helpless look with a touch of amusement.

Spock reviewed his previous statement. His eyes widened marginally. "…No… unprofessional intentions were meant to be conveyed."

Jim waggled his brows. "Too bad."

Spock felt his ears go green. The Captain leaned forward, rapt. He clearly had never witnessed a Vulcan blush before. He heard Uhura smother either a laugh or a sob.

The hybrid forced the blood at his skin's surface to recede. Jim sighed with disappointment. Uhura made the smothered noise again; Jim made an… unprofessional face at her.

Spock sensed McCoy rolling his eyes behind him. "Anything _else?_"

"Yes." Kirk turned back to face the center of the table. "The living quarters need to be set up. Four-fifty, at least."

"Oi. I'll get right on it, sir," Uhura responded. Spock had to wonder whether that was the Captain's revenge; but no, as Communications Chief Uhura also ordered sleeping arrangements. An extremely unenviable task.

"And Bones, we'll need epidemic safeguards –,"

McCoy groaned. Spock glared at him. Just a little bit, to encourage obedience. McCoy glared right back.

" –guards, and sanitations for three-fifty, varied species."

"_Ugh_. I _hate_ plague prep."

Kirk winced sympathetically. "I know." He turned to Lieutenant-Commander Giotto, who looked like he was bracing himself for the worst. "And I'll need scans of everyone and all of their bags and transport." He raised his hands. "Sorry in advance."

The Lieutenant-Commander sighed heavily. "'S okay."

"I _think_ that's it… Spock, anything to add?"

The hybrid considered. "It is possible that some on the Council may be due for their yearly physicals. Medical should prepare accordingly."

McCoy moaned again, as expected. "_Nooo_. Annual checks on _them_? I'll be doling out diabetes treatment for the next _month_. Jim, he _hates_ me."

Kirk looked confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Captain, I must protest –,"

"You _know_ it's true, he's a vindictive little –,"

"That is _enough_, Doctor." The Captain was not pleased.

He turned back to his surprised First Officer. "Anything else?"

"… Replicator supplies should also be checked. We are to be traveling at 150% capacity for an undetermined length of time."

"Aww," Uhura said, depressed. Replicator stores were also her responsibility.

"Ah can do tha' lassie," Engineer Scott responded kindly, "ih'll be simple, Ah've goh' the transportah' all se'. Crew's been workin' on ih since we go' the mission."

"The cargo set, too?" The Captain asked.

Engineer Scott nodded. "The're both in fine condition. Shoul' work jus' fine."

Lieutenant Sulu winced. "Aww. Now you've _jinxed _us."

Spock's left eyebrow was getting an unusual amount of use. "Illogical.

.bdobd.

"All people who are to board the Enterprise have forty-five minutes to do so. The boarding process includes check in, transport, security scan, and quarters assignment. Communications Chief Uhura out."

…

"Hello, this is Captain Kirk speaking. We'll be leaving in fifteen Standard minutes. Please be in your quarters by ten minutes before that so we can make sure that the entire Council's here. This order INCLUDES ALL MEDIA PERSONELL. Yes, that means you too, Stevens. Thank you. Kirk out."

.bdobd.


	5. Meetings of Varied Kinds

A/N: In the episode 'Bread and Roses' (about gladiators and network television; it's a weird episode) there's a clear distinction made between starship captains and spaceship captains. Starship captains are seen as being of a higher, easily superior class of leaders, like the difference between the driver of a taxi and the chauffeur of a limo, with the qualities of an excellent general and sports coach thrown in.

IPFPNN is the news station that Nowmi broadcasts on, like MSNBC or CNN. It stands for 'Inter Planetary Federation Political News Network'. The NBC station's names have been getting longer with time, six letters doesn't seem like that much of a stretch.

.bdobd.

Commander Spock found Captain Kirk in his quarters directly after the Gamma/Beta meal, which was unusual. Typically the Captain could be located within the mess hall for up to an hour and a half after the completion of his evening meal, conversing with the crew.

Kirk looked to Spock as the door opened. "They hounding you too?"

Spock blinked.

The hint of a smile played across Jim's face. "Chasing after or stalking you. C'mon, I know you've heard that one before."

"I have. Who are 'they'?"

"The Councilpeople. They just won't leave me alone." He sighed. "I was hoping that I'd be able to find Prime –,"

Spock stiffened at the name of his alternate, of which he had not seen since the destruction of Vulcan. He had hoped to continue this successful pattern. "My alternate self is on ship?"

Jim looked at him strangely. "Well, yeah. He's the junior Councilman from Vulcan, right?"

Spock reviewed all of his previously known data. "I had believed my father to be the junior Councilman."

The blonde shook his head slowly. "Nooo... He's the _senior_ member."

Spock realized that he had at some point become unnecessarily tense and worked to relax his frame. "Then what of Madam T'Pau?"

"_I_'d heard that she'd said that she'd be too bust on colony to accept the position."

"But Sarek is who is the senior ambassador to Terra and Andoria."

"Yeah, it's weird. But she really, really needed to stay on Vulcan." Jim was looking contemplatively at his boots. "I dunno why, either."

"… How is it that you know more of this than I?"

The query startled an uneasy laugh out of Jim. "The Captains, some of – a lot of them have built really strong Council connections."

Spock drew his brows. "How long have you been conversing with the entirety of the starship Captains?"

"Well, it's never been the _entirety_…" Jim sighed and turned back to his comm unit. "Don't tell the crew; they won't accept it. I only just started because the group didn't contact me until after Mom got the ambassador's job."

Spock moved to sit upon the bed, causing Jim to swivel around. The human still was not making eye contact, however.

"That time, they tried to talk me into talking _her_ out of the job. They'd only called to say that it was 'inappropriate' to serve on a starship and have a parent in diplomatic service."

"Is not Captain Topos's father the ambassador to Orion Prime?"

Jim grinned ruefully. "Yeah, and I said that. They all kind of paused and said they'd call me back.

"A week later, I was playing online poker when Nimeret – Captain Nimeret, of the Odyssey-A – came and joined my able. We got to taking; apparently the game group of – turns out it's only like four Captains –,"

"That is the majority of them, there are only six Captains assigned to starships."

Jim winced. "I know, I know. Anyway, they apparently talked to _him_ and said that he should drop that dilithium contract he has with Regis."

Spock blinked again. "Captain Nimeret has an independent fuel contract?"

"Kind of." Jim leaned back in his chair and stared at his folded hands. "The Odyssey-A has an independent contract. It doesn't actually have much to do with who's Captain."

"That is still an agreement of questionable integrity."

Kirk nodded tiredly. "I agree wholeheartedly. But I'm not gonna say that on my first meeting with the guy. So we plan to play again next weekend, and it comes around and he brings along Tranya."

Spock felt that something was wrong with the Captain's tale, but could not quite figure out what that was. "Was she a Captain at that time?"

"She'd been promoted, but she hadn't gotten the Salient yet. It was still under construction.

"So it turns out that these four assholes'd talked to _her_, too! I don't remember their excuse – something about her planet's slave laws –,"

"The Orion Prime statutes."

Kirk smiled grimly. "Right. So Tranya explodes, apparently, and scares the bejesus out of the idiots. So Nimeret hears about this – somehow – and invites her in."

Kirk sighed. "So we get to talking and it turns out that no one's gotten their supplies on time. No-o _body_. Even Tranya's _ship_ was in limbo, and that's a pretty goddamned important piece of equipment.

"So each of us vows to go on a hunt to find all of our missing cargo. Next week, we all come back; I've got the order lists from Pike, Tranya's got a set from R'Vish, and Nimeret's got one from Bolim.

"We compare them, and they're all different, and it's not little things, either. Some ships were completely missing form one set, and the amounts each person was supposed to get were all screwed up.

"So now we're stuck with this information, and we want to get it to our people, and we can't because we're not supposed to have any of these things in the first place."

Spock nodded. "Captains are not to see the order forms for other sips. I could lead to trade and blackmail between ships with no knowledge from the Admiralty."

Kirk nodded to him. "Exactly. Se we've got a huge problem. We wind up – I don't know who thought of this, it was really stupid – we figure that we'll plant the stuff in someone else."

He rolled his eyes. "And so now Tranya and Nimeret start making suggestions about who to, basically, get kicked out of the Fleet.

"And I ask how we're gonna get the information _to_ whoever-it-is – even if we don't plant it on someone, we'll need to send these noxious things through subspace – and they tell me that _I_, with my lovely Communications team, would surely _love_ to do it!"

Kirk fumed for a moment. "I say _no_, there's no _way_ I'm agreeing to that, and they basically tell me to go fuck myself. They sign off to go and plot."

He sighed. "So now I'm left with a bunch of files that I shouldn't have and no way to get rid of them. And so I decide to talk to –,"

The door chimed. "Enter!" Kirk called.

The fraction of a second that it took for the door to complete its directive was enough for Spock to make a furious attempt to decode whatever the Captain was really trying to say, for what he was physically speaking made no sense. He would not, when faced with a plan to plant false evidence on an innocent, object to the idea because of whom was to transmit a message. Surely, he would not.

It was Prime who entered. "You requested my presence?"

Jim nodded and smiled with relief. "Yeah, thanks for doing this." He handed two PADDs to the junior Councilman, who took them carefully, so as not to touch the captain's hands.

"Is that all?"

Jim snorted. "'All'? You're doing me a huge favor."

Prim ducked his head with obvious, inordinate pleasure. "Such is not difficult."

The blonde grinned. "What? Giving these to Sarek, or doing me favors?'

Prime nearly _smiled_. "While handing these," he hefted the devices with exaggerated difficulty, "to Father is a feat of no little consequence, I find you usually be in such dire need of constant assistance –,"

Jim was laughing happily for the first time since the Councilpeople had come aboard. "Oh, shut _uu_-up. Bastard."

"You, out of all, know that not to be the case."

"_Fwah_." The blonde flapped a hand. "Can never be too sure."

Prime heavily implied another smile and bowed slightly. "As you wish, Captain."

Jim rolled his eyes, stood, and returned the gesture of respect. "You're too good for me. Much too nice."

Prim straightened and quirked a brow sarcastically, making Jim snicker once more. "Oh, stop it, you know I'm right."

The elderly hybrid preformed an exaggerated sigh. "If you say so, Captain," and left.

Jim chuckled again, shaking his head in good-humored amazement. "Ah, he knows me too well." He looked to Spock. "Wow! Are you alright?"

The hybrid had stood at some juncture, but could not remember when, exactly, that had been. "I am well. Why did you request Prime's presence?"

Jim blinked quizzically. "I wanted to talk to him?"

Spock stiffened. What reason would Jim discuss with a creature that did not even acknowledge the presence of _himself_? Albeit an alternate himself, but –

"And I needed to give him the forms."

"_What?_"

Jim straightened in offense. "Oh, c'mon, who else would I give those to? Not Pick, he _is_ an Admiral; not Uhura to transmit, I'm not doing that to her. I can't just hand them to Sarek myself, the guy hates me –,"

"What of _I?_" Spock asked. "I am Sarek's only living child. I am our First Officer. There was no reason to call in my alternate!"

The blonde seemed sympathetic, and his posture softened with his tone. "I'm not going to make you do that. I won't be the reason you get in trouble with Barnett."

"You did not give me an opportunity to accept or deny such a task, as you clearly did with Prime."

Jim stood and held out his palms in a Terran gesture meant to soothe. "I didn't want to ask you to do it, because I know you'd say yes, whether you really wanted to or not."

"You have no proof that Prime would not do the same for you."

The blonde smiled reassuringly and stepped closer. "Not true. He's refused before."

"You have asked _more_ of him?"

Jim froze. "They were things I _could not_ ask you to –,"

"You never requested such and –,"

"I will _not _be the one who throws you to the wolves –!"

"What if I went willingly?" 

"That's the problem!" Kirk spun about and slammed his palm flat on the wall. He lowered his head in apparent disgust or exhaustion.

"You. _Never_. Say no. Ever. I give you the nastiest things and you have never _once _refused. Damnit, you _know _that Base form was impossible. You _must _have. But you did it _anyway_. I can't –,"

"I did it," Spock interrupted quietly, "because I thought that you would not ask of me what you knew I could not give."

Spock stepped away, towards the door, trying to ignore Jim's now horrified expression. "I see now that I was wrong. I apologize for any… deficiencies you found in my compliance."

The hybrid bowed. "Spock, no, no it wasn't –,"

"Good bye, Captain."

He exited. Meditation was required.

.bdobd.

Zeb didn't immediately notice Lt. Sulu's announcement the next afternoon. There had been so many throughout the day: this Councilman was wanted by Diplomat _A_ in Conference Room _X_ at _y_ Hours… She'd just been tuning them all out by ten o'clock.

No, she'd noticed the crew's reactions first. They'd suddenly gotten extremely worried. And then stressed. Then they started coming to her to see if she knew anything about The Captain's Condition, capitals included.

She'd immediately sent Nala off to see what The Captain's Condition was (if, indeed, he_ had _a condition, as the announcement had just said that Lt. Sulu was to be taking the conn), and Nala'd reported that the Captain was sedated.

"And?"

Nala shrugged with obvious irritation. "That's all they would tell me! I asked for more details, and that reception nurse gave me the evil eye. I swear, that man hates me."

"That is illogical."

Nala glared at T'Panya, who'd been dragged away from Observation Deck G for the occasion. "Thanks for your input. I wasn't talking to you."

The Vulcan looked… something negative, Nowmi wasn't at the point where she could tell what kind of icky the alien was feeling at any given moment. She didn't know how Kirk did it. "Hey now, that was uncalled for. So we don't know anything besides he's asleep?"

"Lieutenant Sulu had taken the conn by twelve thirty-seven hours, when the change was reported," T'Panya rattled off, "and the Captain was sedated by twelve fifty-three hours, when Miss Nala reported to Sickbay."

Zeb blinked in sudden confusion. "Wait. Sulu? Isn't the Commander supposed to take over if the Captain gets sick?"

"The Commander did not work today."

The reporter spun to T'Panya. "Spock _didn't work?_ That isn't possible."

The Vulcan did a finger-flutter shrug. "It clearly is possible, as it happened this morning."

Nowmi frowned. "Alright. That's really weird. I'll need to figure that out. What happened between 12:37 and 12:53? That's twenty-four minutes for shit to go down."

"Did the reception nurse state to whether the Captain's condition developed on the Bridge, or if it was obtained elsewhere?"

"No. I told you: he told me the Captain was sedated and then clammed up."

T'Panya looked vaguely confused by the metaphor, which probably meant the poor soul was near _dying_ from incomprehension. Nowmi decided to intervene. "What'd he say exactly?"

"'The Captain's condition isn't fatal. He's under moderate sedation. He's not to be disturbed and the crew is not to panic. Good _day_.' And then he went back to whatever was on his PADD."

"So, it's not deadly, whatever it is."

"That's what _he_ told me. I dunno if I'd believe him though."

"…Right, do we have any evidence to support or contradict the statement?"

"Negative. The nurse's information is the only data that any were able to collect."

"And we can't go on Bridge without the Commander's and the Captain's signatures, and Captain certainly isn't in any condition to sign."

"Can't the Acting Captain sign?"

"With the Commander's backup, yeah."

T'Panya furrowed her brow, "Is the Commander in any way –,"

"He hasn't talked to anyone since the Council gathering yesterday."

"Are you certain –,"

"_Yes,_ I _am._ Even we _humans _are capable of doing their jobs, no matter how _amazing _that concept might be to you –,"

"Nala, _that_ is _enough!_" Nowmi was furious. "You do _not _talk to _anyone _on my staff that way, _ever!_ Is that totally clear?"

Nala looked like she was withholding something nasty, but she swallowed whatever it was. "Yes'm."

"Good. T'Panya," she turned to the quietly stunned Vulcan, "go to Sickbay, see if Kirk's awake yet. If he isn't, wait until he is. Get as much as you can out of him. Alright?"

"…Yes, Miss Nowmi." T'Panya bowed softly to her, looked at Nala in total confusion one more time, and left to find the Captain.

Nala began hissing before she'd even turned the corner. "There is _no_ way she'll get _anything _more than I did, and I don't like how you're undermining –,"

"What? Your _authority? _Newsflash Nala: _I'm the boss_. You listen to _me._ And _I _say you lay off my employees, got it?"

The subordinate seemed to swell. "I _knew_ this would happen; you get one of those precious _Vulcans_ on the payroll and all I do goes out the fucking window! Everyone _said_ this'd happen, I _knew_ it would –,"

"One more word and you're fired, do you understand me?"

Nala rolled her eyes. "Oh no! Fired! Jesus Christ, who the fuck do you think you are? I can get paid twice as much working for the Council."

"Why haven't you then? Because you _clearly_ don't like it here."

"Maybe I think what I do is _good_." The subordinate stepped closer. "Maybe I think it _matters_, what everyone knows. Maybe I think this is too fucking important for –,"

"Petty arguments with co-workers?"

Nala hissed. "I _knew_ you'd do this. I just –,"

"Maybe, just maybe, I like her because she does her job? Maybe it's because you're not as good as she is, qualitatively. Hmm? Or maybe, I'm a big liar and go on holo every day and say 'I hate racists' and don't really mean it. Huh, that _must _be it!"

Zeb leaned towards the furious woman. "You get away from me, and you stay that way until I think T'Panya's ready to deal with your kind of shit. Ok?"

Nala stepped back and threw out her arms, indicating the ship and its stunned crew. "Happily? Let's see how far I can go, on this ship."

She marched off. "I knew I shouldn't've come," she muttered, "this place is crazy."

Nowmi stood still, fuming.

.bdobd.

It took T'Panya a lot longer than Zeb'd expected to return from her Medical expedition. It was probably for the best: the five hours had given her time to recover from a rage so intense that she literally couldn't see straight.

The Vulcan looked… almost _bubbly_. Zeb let her into her quarters suspiciously. "Have you been… drinking? Are you alright?"

"I?" The woman looked surprised to be asked. "Vulcans do not drink. And neither do I."

Blink. _'What?' _ "'And neither do I?' Since when was there a difference?"

T'Panya blinked at her. "Was I out of turn?" She turned introspective. "I was, was I not." She… If she were human, she'd be grinning. Zeb _knew _it. She was looking at her hands in near wonder, as if seeing them for the first time. "Such would not negatively affect you?"

"_What?_"

"If I were not… perfectly Vulcan, that would not negatively effect my work, do you believe?"

It took Zeb a minute to resort the subjects and objects in that sentence. "… Ummm… No? I mean, as long as you turn in your reports on time, I don't really give a damn, to be totally honest."

"Good." A definitive nod. Zeb nearly collapsed in shock. T'Panya looked to her in sudden concern. "Are you well? You appear ill."

"Am _I_ well?"

T'Panya blinked at her. "That was my query, yes." Her eyebrows narrowed gently concern. "Such a question does not aggravate your condition, does it? I do not wish to harm you."

"What the _fuck_ happened in Sickbay?"

Another blink. "I conversed with Captain James."

"Oh good, he's awake – Captain _James?_"

The Vulcan's ears turned green at the tips. Dear god, was she _blushing_? "He… gave me express permission to use his first name."

Zeb searched desperately for a chair and collapsed. "Wait. From the beginning. He's awake?"

"He is awake and speaking lucidly. His motor skills are unimpaired and is suffering no mental deficiencies."

"And you talked to him."

"As you ordered."

"Right. And… What?"

T'Panya cocked her head to the side. "Would you please restate your query?"

"What'd he say?"

"He was concerned about the comfort of the Councilpeople. He wished to speak with Lieutenant Sulu, but Doctor McCoy forbade it, as the narcotics were not completely flushed from his system. He found Nala to be a female dog who was born to unwed parents and who deserved to decay in a religious area of torture."

"… He called Nala a bitch, a bastard, and said that she deserves to rot in hell."

"That is what I just reported, yes."

"… Wow. Did you record that?"

"… The Doctor… was not amenable… to the idea of cameras in the –,"

"Say no more. So, when'd the Captain say you could use his first name?"

T'Panya looked at her in total befuddlement. "…Which order am I to obey?"

"What?"

"Am I to cease speaking, or –,"

"Figure of speech, 'say no more' means 'I understand well enough to not need any more information'."

"… Why not simply –?"

"It's shorter."

"…"

"Go on."

"…When I reported that I had just come from an altercation involving Nala, Captain James said that he would trade my story for an explanation of his residence in Sickbay and the use of his given name."

Zeb blinked. "That strikes me as very Kirk, somehow. He traded your day for his name?"

T'Panya blinked right on back. "No. He traded me his story for mine. He said that as those were what I deemed valuable, we should complete transactions using them as currency."

"So when did the name thing come in?"

"First names are, apparently, essential to the proper reporting of negative events."

The human squinted disbelievingly at her employee. "He said that, and you _believed him_?"

"You are always referenced by our guests on the show by your first name. And you usually bear negative news."

Zeb stared at a space just above T'Panya's head, and tried to keep her cool. "T'Panya."

"Yes?"

"That's a total coincidence."

"Indeed."

"… _Why_ did you agree to the deal again?"

The Vulcan stiffened in vague affront. "It is my duty. I am to collect information in the form of stories, and report them back to you."

Zeb considered this for a moment. "…Alright. I guess that makes sense." She leaned forward eagerly. "So what's the story? What happened to the Captain?"

T'Panya seemed to be a bit uncomfortable. "…Doctor McCoy arrived and ordered all out of the room, but for those 'strapped' to a biobed. A euphemism, as the Captain was unrestrained."

"Wait. You were gone for _five hours_ and learned _nothing?_"

"I have obtained sufficient data for a character sketch."

"T'Panya. That isn't what I wanted. I want to know why the Captain had to be sedated. Why didn't you ask him?"

"I did request such data."

"And?"

"The Captain is most skilled in the art of conversational manipulation."

"He changed the subject."

"That is another term for it, yes."

Zeb kneaded the bridge of her nose with three fingers. "_What_ did he change the subject _to?_ Maybe I could use that."

"…"

"T'Panya."

"He…made reference to my…mental prowess."

"He what?"

The Vulcan was nearly squirming. "He complimented me on my computation abilities."

Zeb said nothing.

"I had just deduced the amounts of pharmaceuticals he was under."

"T'Panya?"

"Yes?"

"You've never been to a Terran bar before, have you."

"…I fail to see how that is relevant to our discussion."

"If you'd've gone, you'd know how to recognize when someone's flirting with you."

"I _highly_ doubt that –,"

"_Anyway_. So we don't know anything more than what we started with."

"That is not true."

Zeb looked at her tiredly. "Why? I don't have –,"

"We know that the Captain is crafty and will use immoral tactics to obtain his desired results. We know that the Captain is allergic to numerous medications and is known attempt escape from Sickbay when still injured. We know that he is concerned with his ship and crew at all times. And we know that he is well versed in Vulcan classical literature."

Blink. "We do?"

T'Panya nodded. "We all do, now. And," a dramatic pause for emphasis (she must've picked it up from Kirk), "we know that the Captain believed Spock to have reported for duty after the Captain was taken to Sickbay."

Nowmi's eyes widened, and she grinned as wide as a Cheshire cat. "Now _that's_ more like it!"

.bdobd.

Nowmi's much anticipated show, the first full length one on the Enterprise, generated a huge audience, much larger than expected.

This was due, in part, to having a totally captive audience of eight hundred and fifty, all of who tuned in just for the almost-buried segment about The Captain's Condition, right at the end of program.

"Alright!" Nowmi braced her elbows and rubbed her hands together theatrically. "The Captain's Condition is: awake and lucid. He's to return to active duty tomorrow, so everyone can see him on the Bridge, Alpha shift."

She stopped herself from turning to Camera 2 just in time; there was no Camera 2 on the ship. Just Stevens. "For everyone who's watching at home; the Captain was taken to Sickbay at 12:33 today, and was sedated about fifteen minutes later. Lt. Sulu took the conn – that's Fleet slang for command of the ship, sitting in the Captain's chair 'n all that – at 12:34."

She leaned forward slightly. "Now, the most interesting bit here, I think, is _not_ that the Captain was sedated – apparently he's a bit of an insomniac, it's nothing huge – but that Commander Spock wasn't who took the conn. The Commander didn't even come onto the Bridge today. In fact, no one's seen him since late yesterday. And the last person to see him was _probably_ the Captain."

Nowmi straightened a bit. "We'll be trying to get more information on this. Doctor McCoy has assured us that the Commander isn't ill; he's just taking a day off. We'll be talking to both the Commander and the Captain as soon as we can."

She grinned, knowing that she'd probably just made a permanent enemy of the ship's CMO, who'd relented to an essential unrecorded interview late in the day. "Until then, you can check us on IPFPNN's website, and on our record tapes in stream IPFPNN-12. Thank you, and good night."

.bdobd.

The Captain did not return to work the following day. He was busy trying to figure out what, exactly, he had done that had made Barnett hate him enough to give the Enterprise this particular assignment.

He did script one announcement, which Communications Officer Uhura read as Beta shift was breaking for their evening meal.

"The Captain has said: 'Attention Enterprise crew. The Enterprise is to travel back to Tellar to assist in the ongoing repairs on the Communications networks there. This is an assignment of indefinite length. Shore leave will not be allowed to any crewpeople.'

"The Captain continues, 'Guys: don't panic. I'm working on this right now. I should be able to negotiate shore leave for most of us. Communications and Engineering may be a bit harder, though, so you guys might want to prep for a long haul.'

"That is all."

The mess hall was silent. There was a brief crackle of static, and then Lieutenant Sulu's voice came over the speakers: "Speed increased to Warp Factor 8."

.bdobd.


	6. Awkward Introductions

A/N: What? Self imposed deadlines? I have never heard of such a thing…

To those whom I told that this would be out by Saturday, I'm REALLY REALLY sorry. I'm just going to slap this up here, I'll probably edit it again tomorrow. I'm sorry!

Moment of Geek: I just had to change the batteries on my wireless Apple keyboard and had a stupidly good time. You open the hidden chamber with a coin and just slide the new ones in. Sooooo fun.

Genug means 'enough' in Yiddish. Aneas means 'to praise' in Greek.

Omicron Theta is a planet out sort of in the middle of nowhere. It has two moons, and was where android technicians created Data from the TNG series. In the late 2250s, when the movie takes place, there was an Earth colony there.

.bdobd.

Jim was having an overall alright day, which terrified him. He should've been miserable.

Spock hadn't returned to the Bridge since the Fight. They were scheduled to land on Tellar the next afternoon.

Things should be going to hell. Klingons should be sighted off the starboard bow, and diplomats should be found drugged with prostitutes, missing vital alien organs.

But nothing. All was going according to plan.

Of course, it might be that his bad fortune was instead being used up by the hypocritical Councilpeople that were now being asked for interviews by Nowmi's persistent staff. It'd gotten to the point where ambassadors were avoiding certain hallways, knowing that There Thar Be Reporters.

Probably it was that The Plan to get everyone to where they needed to go had been heavily edited by Spock.

But still. It was weird.

"Captain," Sulu called, "Tellar has been sighted."

"Mainscreen."

The screen cleared from Security's diagrams of the Tellaritian base (with Ambush Areas highlighted in gold – an addition necessary due to Jim's strange talent for getting jumped in dark spots) to a view of the green-brown planet, spinning slowly on its invisible axis.

"Orbiting now, Captain."

"Excellent. Good work. Uhura, we have communications yet?"

"We have the capability, but no one's on a channel yet, sir."

"Open one up for to the Base and to the Federation office, just tell 'em we're here and ready to help."

"Yessir." Uhura paused in her manipulations of her console. "Sir… Would you like me to send a message down to the Commander? Just to tell him we've arrived."

Kirk set his jaw but kept his tone light. "There's no reason to. He'll learn from the ship-wide announcement, just like everyone else."

Uhura nodded. "Yes, Captain."

.bdobd.

Spock had spent the past three days sequestered in his quarters. He had invoked no contact with the crew for that period, nor communication with anyone outside of the crew.

He should not have been so surprised when the ship arrived at Tellar, and was not privately informed. The Captain had assumed him to have taken a leave of absence. It was an understandable assumption, one preferable to the truth, that he had been AWOL for the past half week.

He would be expected to be present for the docking, however. It was past time to put away his meditation candles. They would spoil if left too long outside their protective casing, and, with so few now in existence, it was even more important then ever to keep them in superior condition.

Vulcan was dead. All of its remains had to be kept intact for as long as possible.

.bdobd.

Jim tried not to show his surprise when Spock arrived for the docking the next day. Of course he'd want to be there.

The hybrid entered as he normally did. Walking at an easy pace, just before he was needed, ready to help with anything that required his assistance. "Captain. I apologize for my unscheduled leave of absence. I do not predict its reoccurrence in the near future."

Jim blinked at the hybrid. Spock moved like he normally did, but he didn't sound right. "No problem. We got along. Are you alright?"

"Both my mental and physical conditions are optimal."

Blink. That was where Spock was _supposed_ to comment on how illogical the question was. "…Okay." Jim turned back to the mainscreen. "Sulu, we ready to dock?"

"All safeguards are in place, and the dock is open."

"Uhura, confirmation?"

"Base head says, 'Go right in.' Slot 6, sir."

"Take her down, Sulu."

The helmsman simply nodded, already intent upon guiding the large vessel into the docking platform.

The atmosphere was sketching flames on the hull when Spock moved to stand beside Jim. He turned to the Vulcan with a sheepish, apologetic grin. _'I was an ass. Am I forgiven?'_

Spock's eyes were blank. It was like in the beginning, right after Nero. There was nothing inside of him any more.

Jim must have looked horrified, or maybe baffled, for one of the Commander's eyebrows rose. "Captain, what is the issue?"

There was still _nothing there._ "I…" Kirk lowered his voice so that only Spock could hear him. "Commander, I'd like a short report of what _exactly_ you did the past three days. Confidential, don't worry."

The Commander stiffened. "Such an order is –,"

"A necessity, given your sudden change in behavior."

"Captain, I am –,"

"If you tell me that nothing has changed in your thought process, or behavior, or demeanor, then you better have one _hell_ of an argument to back yourself up." He was hissing softly now.

"I am not required to fill such an order, for it is an inquiry into my personal affairs."

That was true. "But you do not protest to the basis of my order?"

Kirk got a single blink from the question. Even then, it wasn't quite the same: Usually Spock thinking sounded like cogs churning, but now it was more of an echoing noise, like a drop of water in a cave.

"I do not protest to your reasoning. I protest to your directives."

"Directives whose basis, you agree, is valid."

There, a slight twitch of one brow, where before there was a full raise. "I have the ability to agree with your premise, while disagreeing with your methods of solution."

The Commander looked to the mainscreen and raised his voice to a normal level. "We are approaching the dock, Captain."

Jim stared mournfully at the station. Strapped to another planet. Thankfully, Tellar had an atmosphere very similar to Earth's, not stupidly cold like Andoria's, or ridiculously hot like Vulcan's… had been. And New Vulcan's was, he'd heard. He really did have to go to the Colony soon.

"Approaching platform," Sulu reported.

"Uhura, announce upcoming dock in five minutes."

"Yessir." Uhura started to murmur softly into her headpiece, her voice carrying everywhere across the ship. Everywhere, except the bridge, which weren't connected to announcement speakers: It was assumed that as the Bridge already knew what was going on, and could hear the actual person making the announcement, they didn't need their own speaker system.

The ship shuddered and creaked as it settled uncomfortably into the narrow docking slot. Mechanical arms rose from the platform and attached themselves to the sides of the ship, tying her firmly to the ground.

They locked with a heavy _ka-chunk_ noise. Kirk repressed a sigh.

"Captain," Uhura said, "receiving message from Tellaritian government. They welcome our presence and request immediate assignment of at least twenty engineers to the Valpac Communications Headquarters."

Oii. "Right." Kirk opened a comm link on his armrest. "Scotty, I need twenty engineers for Valpac's HQ, pronto."

"Ach. A'righ'. Ah've go' 'em 'ere, Cap'n, buh theh're no' happy 'bou' ih."

"I don't need them happy, I need them working. I'll try to get everyone rotated frequently. Again, no promises."

"Weh understa', Cap'n." The Engineer's voice tunnled, as though he'd just turned away from the comm pickup. "Teams 2 ta 6, you're goin' ta' Valpac. Ge' ready, ya need ta leave soon."

"Captain, there's a message for you on channel 3," Uhura said over her shoulder.

"Mainscreen."

The silvery-gray airlock doors of the dock were replaced by the face of a typically jovial Tellaritian man. "Captain Kirk! Tellar is thankful you could be of assistance."

Kirk straightened in his chair: no slouching when on mainscreen. "Of course, sir. How –?"

"Ach, please! None of that 'sir' business, call me Genug."

The Commander moved to stand beside Kirk. "…Alright, Genug it is. Your government has asked for twenty of my engineers to go Valpac's headquarters. How are they to be transported there?"

"Wah! You were not told?" Genug shook his head in good-humored exasperation. "People, they are not as smart as they once were. There will be a craft waiting for them there."

Kirk blinked for a few moments. "…Where is 'there'?"

Genug looked at him oddly. "The dock, of course. You and your Commander are coming as well, yes?"

.bdobd.

Apparently, it was customary for the Captain and second-in-command of a visiting craft to at least walk onto the platform where his ship was docked before everyone else did. Apparently, this had to do with the strict hierarchy that the Tellaritian military had: the commander of the forces ate before all else, slept before all else, drank before all else, and walked before all else.

The commanders had the odd habit of dying last, however. No one was really sure how that worked.

That's what Uhura said into Jim's earpiece on the long walk down to the ship's exit ramp, which was located in the bottom-back half of the ship, opposite the Bridge.

The walk was made even longer by the freak attacks various dignitaries tried to perform, attempting to coerce the captain into talking to them. It was, probably, one of the most stressful trips Jim'd ever taken, if you excluded the one back from Vulcan after the Narada.

Orion ambassador Aneas Topos managed to get the closest: He nearly bowled over Spock on his desperate quest to get to Jim. "Captain, I really _have _to speak with you, it's of vital importance –,"

"Does it have anything to do about Tellar or Communications?"

"No, it's the Orion slave laws, they're going to –,"

Spock had righted himself and was breaking his self-imposed pact of passionless expression by glaring fiercely at flustered man. "If the subject at hand is not one of those described by the Captain, it can be safely assumed that such a subject is not to be discussed at this time. I do not believe that the –,"

"No! You don't understand, I don't know if I'll be able to get to you all again, and I'm going back in two weeks and I _need to tell you this_."

One of the engineers was giving Jim a look. _'You want me to take him out? I'll totally do it.'_

Kirk shook his head. "Sir, I promise to talk to you. Later. I just can not do it right now; I need to greet fifteen Tellarites, drop off twenty crewman, and get back on my ship in under half an hour. I really do not have the time right now."

Aneas was nearly squirming with displeasure. "Do you promise to meet with me later?"

Kirk looked the man in the eyes. "Yes. I will hold a meeting with you. I will talk to you. I'd do it now, but I'm in a rush."

Aneas nodded uneasily. "Alright." He stepped back, "Good luck with the Tellarites. You won't really need it though: They like to argue, but they don't actually get offended that often."

The blond haired diplomat walked off to do diplomat things, and Jim turned back around to continue the long slog down to the belly of the ship. Spock sidled over.

"Was that man the father of Captain Topos?"

"Yep. He's supposed to be a decent guy; Mom said she met him on the way to the Europa Conference, and he treated her well enough."

"…Do you believe that he knows of his son's attempts to alter the behaviors of the captains of Starfleet?"

"What?" It took Jim a moment to figure out the hell Spock was talking about. "Oh! No, no, Aneas isn't like that. Perseus is a bit odd, anyway."

Spock wandered back over to his self-assigned spot with clear dissatisfaction. One of the engineers leaned over to take the Commander's vacated spot. "What are we actually gonna _do_ at Valpac?"

Jim thought for a moment. "Work on the communications units, I think. Circuit connections and stuff."

"Shouldn't they've sent Communications people instead?"

Jim pondered. "Hey, Uhura," he said, addressing his earpiece, "any idea why you weren't called in along with Engineering?"

"Valpac's paranoid. They don't want us taking trade secrets back to the Fed."

"Fair enough." Jim turned back to the inquisitive engineer. "Valpac's being a dick, protecting any patents and all that."

The engineer shrugged. "Okay." He moved back over to the curious group of crew to report his findings.

Jim readdressed his earpiece. "So, what are we supposed to do when we get there? Do you know?"

"No clue, sir. The Tellarites are open about everything but this, I guess, I'm having a hard time finding stuff about dominance in their military."

"What about leadership roles and customs? Is there anything there?"

"There's just a link to redirect you to dominance and social stature amongst foreigners."

"And?"

"That page is a link back to leadership roles and customs."

Jim sighed. "How does this always happen?"

"Well, you only notice the times it does, so really we're about average…"

"No, I think by now we've actually got bad luck."

"…"

"Spock, back me up here."

The Commander gave him a sorta-exasperated look. Kind of. His face had gotten a lot less emotive since his Truancy Phase (as Jim was now calling it), but he hadn't erased it all. Having a freaked-out human crash into you going thirty miles an hour, while being a touch-telepath, probably factored in as well.

He wasn't pleased. "Fortune is an illogical construct. As misfortune is an absence of this, both are fallacious."

Spock could hear Uhura on Jim's earpiece, but Uhura couldn't hear Spock. "What'd he say?"

"We're being stupid."

"That is not what I had –,"

Uhura laughed. "Why am I not surprised? By the way, Sulu's figured out what kind of 'craft' Genug was talking about: There's an official Government of Tellar hovercar sitting in the reserved section of the dock's civilian parking lot."

"Is it possible that that's just for any dignitaries that decide to show up?"

"I don't think so. It's too big. Usually there are only five or ten diplomats that come to Federation landings, this monster's big enough for twenty."

The exit hatch door was outlined by a thin red-and-yellow line for unknown reasons. There was some speculation as to who had been stupid enough to _accidently_ open the hatch and gotten himself (and it was most likely a 'him') killed. The handle on it was also ostentatious: a large lever-and-cog monstrosity designed to be unignorable.

Everyone-except-Spock looked at the thing with loathing. They all knew that through this door lay stupidly huge amounts of work, brown-nosing, and no credit for any of it. The Commander was practically chipper by contrast.

"Shall I open the hatch, Captain?"

Jim waved an 'affirmative' with sever depression. Damn. This was gonna _suck._

The hybrid swiped his Starfleet Identification Card and pulled on the lever. The hatch opened with a pneumatic hiss and a dramatic cloud of steam, both manufactured just for diplomatic occasions such as these.

The steam cleared to show a number of beaming Tellarites. Jim was opening his mouth to get on Uhura's case – there _had _to be more than ten people here – when he realized that the great majority of the people there were Tellaritian _reporters_.

Spock had frozen in sorta-subtle Vulcan horror. "Uhura," Kirk hissed, "_reporters_."

"Yeah?"

"What do you mean, 'Yeah?' _Reporters_."

"What about them?"

"_Uhura!_"

"We're the flagship. We're landing to save the Federation from a total Communications breakdown. What'd you expect?"

"_Not reporters._"

"…Why?"

"Lieutenant." Spock sounded stressed. "Is there any way to maneuver around the newspeople and go directly to any diplomatic parties?"

"Spock wants to know if there's a way to go right to the important people."

"Not really. You can try a hard left right off of the exit ramp, it looks like there's a little pocket of staffers over there."

Spock looked cautiously out of the ship to the left, searching for the staff. Camera bulbs went off immediately, and Jim saw Spock's third eyelid snap shut as he pulled himself back into the belly of the Enterprise.

"There are six people matching the Lieutenant's description approximately forty-five feet away."

"How far away are the reporters?"

"Twenty-two and a half feet away."

"Oh, for god's sakes."

"I'm sending reinforcements," Uhura said.

"We'll wait," Jim replied.

A few minutes later, scrambling could be heard from further inside the Enterprise. Jim was half-expecting some of the younger ambassadors to appear, but it was Ms. Nowmi, Mr. Stevens, and T'Panya that came into view, racing to get to the officers.

The news crew brushed past without any address, instead, they scurried over to the media crowd. Nowmi was waving her arms threateningly, and Stevens had his camera right up to the mob's faces. Combined, they managed to get the swarm to back up about three feet.

T'Panya ran daintily back up the ramp. "The staff of the Tellaritian governmental workers wish for you to come with them," she half spoke, half panted.

Jim nodded, "Alright, that's fine." He looked at the engineers that had congealed into an anti-social clot behind him. "Everyone, we're moving out." The braver, more outgoing of the clot nodded fearfully at him.

The group of Starfleet officers dashed as regally as they could over to the stressed Tellaritian staff, all of whom which were obviously stunned by the huge turnout over a foreign docking. Usually it was the local ones that brought the crowds: mothers numbering in the hundreds, all carrying various baked goods for their children.

T'Panya glared purposefully at the interns, who looked so scared of her that they didn't actually move for a good ten seconds. A very long ten seconds, as the flashbulbs had been going ever since the clot and Jim-and-Spock had left the Enterprise's silver womb.

Finally, the staffers got it into their heads, that everyone was waiting for them to MOVE and did so, heading off behind one of the warp nacelles.

There was a door there, inscribed into a wall tucked carefully out of the sight of anyone standing behind a police safety line. Everyone shuffled in, most stunned into silence by the nearly traumatic event of knowing, absolutely knowing, that anything that they'd done in the past three minutes was to be recorded for posterity, and would be made available to the public in about an hour.

Behind the door, there was less light, a sort of cove carved out of the wall, to be used only for those who were known to hate publicity. There was softish carpet in a shade of darkish beige inoffensive to all but those currently enrolled in an interior decorating class. Behind the door, there was a peaceful silence as the eight-or-nine Tellaritian politicians looked sympathetically at the terrified humans-and-a-Vulcan.

Behind the door, there stood T'Pau.

.bdobd.

Spock had not expected the head of his family to be in residence on Tellar. There had been to reason to believe as such. T'Pau had refused a seat in the Federation Council on the grounds that she was too busy rebuilding Vulcan to take a job in interplanetary politics.

Therefore, Spock had thought it reasonable to assume that T'Pau, busy with _rebuilding_ Vulcan, to be _on_ Vulcan.

Clearly, he had been mistaken.

The elderly matriarch held up the traditional Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper."

Spock saw Kirk repeat the gesture with a stunned expression.

Spock looked carefully at the head of his family. "We come to serve," he said, returning the salute. "May I ask why you are --?"

"Your service honors us. Negative."

Kirk flinched beside him and looked to the clearly surprised Tellarites. "Uh, hello. I'm Captain James Kirk, this is my First Officer Spock. These," the blonde gestured expansively behind himself at the now intensely interested engineers, "are my crew. You needed them?"

The man who had called himself Genug stepped forward. "Yes, we are thankful for your assistance. We… _erm_… I see that you have already met Madam T'Pau?"

The Captain looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Yeah, we've met."

"The Captain and I communicated after the destruction of Vulcan," T'Pau clarified. "Our goals of peace are shared."

Genug nodded deeply to her. "As are ours, Madam." He turned back to the human, "your crew will be taken to Valpac's base by hovercar. The vehicle is protected by shields and guards, but we know of your concern for your crew's safety, so you will have the opportunity to tour it, if you so desire."

Kirk considered this carefully. "What model car is it?"

Genug looked to one of the people standing behind him. "Oxsni 650!" one of them called.

The Captain made a considering noise. "_Ehhkehhh_… I'll send the Commander to look it over for me. It's a basic thing," he turned to Spock, "just check the fuselage connection." He faced the Tellarites again, and started to list tasks to be completed. "I'll need regular reports on my crew's condition, of course; I think one every three hours should do it." He bent back a finger, ticking off his prerequisites.

"And I'll need weekly conferences with them (by holo, of course); and some reassurance that they actually are where you say they'll be…"

The Tellarites's expressions showed that there was nothing usual(?) in the Captain's demands. One of the Tellarites behind Genug stepped forward with irritation. "No, captain, there is no reason for such concern. No harm shall come to your crew; I would be happy to assure you that --,"

The Captain's smile was not of humor, but of challenge. He looked to be beginning to enjoy himself. "If I believe everyone every time they told me to 'just trust' them, I'd be dead sixteen times over."

"How did you arrive at that number, Captain?" Spock asked.

Kirk had stepped forward to confront the argumentive ambassador more readily, and answered over his shoulder, "Omicron Theta plus Delta Vega, added to every Andorian politician I've ever met."

The hybrid nodded slowly. "Disregarding the fact that you did not stay in the survival pod as directed on Delta Vega, it is actually twenty-seven times that you have been led astray."

Kirk turned to face Spock more fully. "What? Where'd those other eleven come from?"

"Madam Tishri and the Andoria Prime base, and the Zedakitian governmental building combined are seven--,"

"Seven? Five."

"I am counting the two unspoken assurances that we would not be attacked on Federation property when beaming down to the Andoria Prime base when meeting with the Nahka Comentha."

Jim looked pensive. "I don't think those count, though."

"If you do not count unspoken assurances, than there have been only fourteen recorded false assurances that --,"

"Omicron sure as hell wasn't recorded, but that's at least three right there."

"What occurred on Omicron Theta?" T'Panya asked. The Captain had apparently not heard her move to stand beside him, for he flinched sharply with obvious surprise.

"_Je_sus _Christ_ you scared me. It's nothing I can tell you about."

T'Panya looked… disappointed, certainly, but it was a specific kind of disappointment…

Was T'Panya _pouting?_

T'Pau rushed in to halt… whatever was going on; Spock had been seized by the sudden, distinct impression that he did not actually know what everyone else though they were doing. "If the Commander is to inspect the vehicle, and wishes to leave within the hour, then he should begin inspecting in the next two minutes.

The Captain's and the Tellarites's gazes all went to a clock hung above the door. Kirk nodded his agreement. "Alright. Could someone hake my First Officer to the car? I still need to ask you guys a few questions."

"I shall guide him," T'Pau said unexpectedly.

Kirk's eyebrows flew. "Are you sure? I'd thought you'd want to hear this."

T'Pau shook her head in the negative. " I wish to speak with my nephew. I shall do so after his inspection of the vehicle."

Spock began to steel himself for the interrogation he knew was soon to come. T'Pau was not known for insincere promises.

.bdobd.


	7. Questions

A/N: I am SO SORRY for the HUUUGE lag. I got totally caught up in redoing all of my line breaks – they're all '.bodbd.' now – and I kinda forgot to write. Sorry.

I've gone through and edited a bit of this story and of Without Direction: nothing major; in WoD it was all grammar stuff, and in here it's all just making Jim and Spock's relationship better match what it was in the last chapter of WoD.

In TOS episode 'The Tholian Web', Spock says that there has never been a case of mutiny on a starship (before that episode, that is).

.bdobd.

The inspection of the hovercraft took little time, as the craft was in optimal condition. T'Pau's questioning was to prove a much more strenuous activity.

The elder took another sharp turn away from the car, her nephew-that-was-not trailing in her wake.

Spock was not even a close relative of T'Pau. She had no siblings to bear nieces or nephews; his father was a distant cousin of hers. The relationship between the head of the family and the family members was not easily translated into Standard. The High Council had found 'nephew' to have a connotation of sufficient emotional detachment to be acceptable.

T'Pau turned again, this time into a room in an isolated corridor. Spock was reminded of the ill-fated meeting with the Thakahla on Andoria. There were no security cameras in the room, or recording devices of any kind.

Was she anyone else, he would have expected an eminent physical attack. As it was, physical force would not have been necessary to inflict substantial harm.

"Spock. Have you discussed the captaincy of the Federation, in relation to foreign affairs, with your superior officer."

"…No."

"You found in necessary to hesitate. Why is this?"

"…I was attempting to… answer in accordance to what I believed your definition of 'foreign relations'. We have discussed treaties and opinions relevant to our missions; and we have spoken of Andoran-Vulcan relations in the past. Are you referring to Tellaritian relations?"

"No, I was referring to Klingon, Cardassian, and Orion relations."

Spock blinked but worked to otherwise control his expression. "Individual treaties concerning specific missions have been discussed, along with the overall state of the Klingon border."

T'Pau narrowed her eyes, perhaps sensing hidden truths. "What of the Orions?"

What _of_ the Orions? "Little concerning Orion has entered into our debates."

T'Pau seemed appeased. Spock was surprised: She had not referenced Cardassia as she had Klingon and Orion. And Cardassian politics were what he and the Captain were by far the most involved in, of the three.

The Captain had kept contact with the Cardassian government after returning a junior Cardassian captain to them. He was in the process of locating her – hopefully unexecuted for her failure to defeat the Enterprise in combat, an impossible task – and speaking with her.

Spock did not know to what end this was to serve, but the idea that T'Pau did not know of the conversations was not one he had previously considered. "I am appreciative of your answers to my queries," T'Pau saluted. "Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life, T'Pau," he saluted back. The elder turned to leave, but Spock stopped her with an unplanned inquiry. "T'Pau, the Captain and I are having… a disagreement; may I request advice?"

T'Pau did an about face. "Affirmative. To what are you and the Captain in disagreement over?"

Spock fought the urge to squirm. He had the impression that T'Pau believed his issue to be of much greater importance than it actually was. He had learned long ago to not retract a request for assistance, however.

"I believe the Captain to be withholding information from me. I believe that it is of great enough bearing to impact the running of the ship. However, I am uncertain how to proceed, for I do not want to contact the Admiralty for outstanding reasons."

T'Pau seemed near-offense. "Your path is clear. You must forgive the Captain."

Spock was stunned. He resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow; he had a feeling it would not 'go over well'. He opted to blink instead. "_What?_"

T'Pau was now, clearly, offended. "You requested advice. If you can not complain to your superiors, and your inferiors are being negatively effected, whatever it was must be forgotten. Better, forgiven, if such is possible."

Spock blinked again. And again. And, left eyebrow, "Such is _not _possible, for he is clearly lying to his First officer."

"Do you believe his motivations to be impure?"

"No –, _kroykah._ Have you been conversing regularly with my Captain?"

"Yes. Why is such relevant."

"The Captain used a similar defense not an hour earlier."

T'Pau nodded. "Your Captain is very intelligent. He deserves your full respect and cooperation."

Spock did the Vulcan equivalent of a gape. "I… I _do_ respect him. But I feel conflicted following his orders without knowing the full consequences of my actions shall have on my Captain and my ship."

"_Your_ Captain? _Your_ ship?"

T'Pau drew herself up to her full height, and she switched tones to hiss angrily in Vulcan. "Thou shalt serve whom you hath _chosen_ to subordinate or a commander shalt be chosen _for_ thee. Thou hath had the opportunity to serve under a people of your choosing, even during a true crisis of Vulcan; if thou are to disregard such thou _shalt_ be ordered back to thine home planet where thou _shalt_ stay for as long as thy Council wills it!"

Spock was pressed against the conference table, backed away from the raging elder who blocked the door. He had never seen _any_ adult Vulcan this furious. Were his thoughts so disgusting?

"I…" Spock bowed, "I am deeply apologetic for any perceived offence directed a Vulcan, you, or Captain Kirk. I shall endeavor to correct any faults in my behavior."

T'Pau settled herself. "I expect an appropriately positive report form you Captain next I speak with him. Be well, " she finished with a salute.

Spock was having difficulties keeping his expression neutral. He saluted. "And you, T'Pau."

The elder exited the room. Spock stood quietly inside the chamber, stunned. Both Admiral Pike and Captain Kirk had told him numerous times that his primary directive as First Officer was to question the decisions of his superiors, so as to make their actions more effective in the end. Had he strayed so far from that goal?

Spock made his way out of the conference room. He caught sight of the Captain, who was still speaking to the Tellaritian ambassadors.

Arguing, not speaking. Tellarites were known to prefer such discussions. The Captain's banter with him before had most likely been preformed solely to fulfill this cultural obligation.

It was an exceedingly logical plan. Spock just wished that he had been informed of it before he had preformed in it.

The Captain caught sight of him and smiled, waving him over. Spock went.

"So!" The human clapped his hands together in an entirely inappropriate manner, addressing the Tellarites. "We've come. Our people are on their way. Everyone's happy. Can we go?"

A Tellarite who was not Genug grinned and nodded in the affirmative. "You have convinced me. Against my will, but you have done so. Be well, Captain Kirk."

The Captain beamed at the man and bowed. Spock copied the gesture. "Thanks, guys. I'll be keeping in touch."

The man who was not Genug shuddered dramatically. "So you've made _abundantly clear_, Captain."

The Captain waved off the man's sarcasm. "_Bah_. You know I love you."

He turned to Spock. "Shall we?"

The hybrid nodded quietly. The two officers bowed again, and began walking back to the ship. Some of the cameras flashed, but the Enterprise's security team contained most of them.

The Captain did not speak for the entirety of the walk back up to the Bridge. When the two of them entered the lift, however, he turned to address the Commander.

"Hey, you alright? T'Pau's freaky."

Spock looked carefully at the human. He seemed concerned. He also appeared anxious. "I am well."

The blonde drew into himself, somehow. "Alright. Just… If you want to talk, I'm always here. Okay?"

Spock nodded sharply. "I know of this."

That was an improper response. His superior officer had just offered assistance, simple acknowledgement was not enough. "I am… appreciative of your offer. I find myself unable to fulfill it, however."

The Captain – Kirk? Jim? Was calling the Captain 'Jim' disrespectful? – relaxed slightly. "You wouldn't need to do much to fulfill anything," he said with a small smile, "that's kinda the point."

"I would need to do enough."

Captain Kirk blinked, nodded, and settled himself, apparently satisfied. This was strange, considering that Spock himself did not know the meaning of what he had just said.

Meditation was in order.

.bdobd.

Spock's strange behavior featured prominently in the next three days of Jim's life.

Not that this was unusual, of course. It was just that normally, Spock was _talking _to Jim, instead of actively avoiding him. The impact of his current mood was pervasive, like the smell of old fish, or something.

Jim had plenty of time to figure out an appropriate simile. He was, basically, strapped to his command chair. Nowmi wanted an interview. Jim did not want to be interviewed.

This had led to two tense confrontations in various hallways, both of which ended with Nowmi becoming more determined to get the goddamned audio, and Jim wanting to punch something.

The only place Nowmi wasn't was on the Bridge. She needed written permission from him to get clearance, a fact Jim was exploiting for as long as he could.

Usually, this was when he went to either Spock or Bones. Spock was out of the question. And Bones… Bones had become oddly fixated on Spock. Jim did not know why. It'd worry him if he didn't know that Bones was totally uninterested in guys. But every conversation now was, 'How's Spock doing?' 'Have ya talked to Spock? At all? Has _anyone_?' 'So, did ya tell Spock about this?'

And then, when Jim'd (vaguely) described his predicament, Bones just _shrugged._ "I don't know what to tell ya. Ya can't talk to him, you seem pretty set on that, and you can't _not_ tell him, apparently. Somethin's gotta give eventually."

That was all very well and good, but what if it was _Spock_ that gave? He seemed pretty crushed already.

And Jim could not go to Prime. That was just not alright. Spock was angry because Prime had gotten first pick of information, there was no way Jim was going to do that _again_ to try to solve the problem.

Jim didn't even have a Vulcan FO to whip out any more, when, say, psychotic ambassadors to Orion cornered you and asked why they hadn't gotten an audience yet.

They guy'd actually said 'audience'. Diplomacy was like drugs: It was addicting, destructive to all those around you, and it did weird shit to your brain. The stuff needed a 'Surgeon's General Warning' sticker.

The truth was, Jim'd forgotten about Ambassador Topos the minute he'd left the ship. Spock was the one who set up the audience-type stuff, anyway. Jim'd made soothing noises and told him that as soon as Commander Spock was feeling better, he'd get a joint audience.

And Spock would've come in pretty _goddamned handy_ when T'Panya cornered him on the Observation Deck (which was labeled 'public area') and begged for him to give Nowmi an interview.

Jim squirmed. "I really, _really_, don't think that's a good idea."

T'Panya's eyes pleaded. "Such would not be difficult, or time consuming. There is no reason why you might not speak to Miss Nowmi and then not return to the Bridge."

The blonde sighed. "It's not time. It's the Admiralty. I'm not good at guessing what Barnett thinks I shouldn't tell my crew."

The woman pleaded some more. Silently, for a while. Then, "Captain, then I ask of you a personal favor."

Kirk resisted the urge to groan. He was _doomed_. He _knew_ he'd kept Spock around for a reason…

"I am on the verge of losing my employment. I am in need of concrete evidence that I bring to Miss Nowmi what others can not."

"What?" Jim blinked at her. "That doesn't make any sense. You're her tech support; she can't just fire you."

T'Panya looked away. "Mister Stevens is most efficient. And Miss Nala does not favor my presence."

"And you need me to come and…"

"Speak, for a short while." The begging eyes returned full force. "Please Captain, I am in rather desperate need of assistance."

_Damn_ it. She was most likely lying. But on the slight chance that she wasn't, she'd be out of a good job.

Wait. Nowmi just wanted _audio_…

"What about a compromise? I don't do a one-on-one interview, but you guys can set up a camera on the Bridge." That'd get Nowmi the footage she wanted, and her out of his hair. He could always turn off the camera if it got too annoying.

T'Panya was considering his suggestion. "…I was told that a one-on-one interview would be infinitely more preferable than any alternative."

Fuck. "Well, does she know about my offer? Maybe she just hasn't considered the idea yet. She probably didn't even know that plan existed. I think you should at least tell her."

"Would it not be best for you to report to her?"

"NO."

"Why?"

Kirk scrabbled a bit. "Then I'd be taking over your job, right? You're to report to her, and I'm supposed to run the ship. I can't do both."

T'Panya opened her mouth to disagree, or to point out one of the dozens of holes in his argument, but Kirk rushed to cut her off. "Just tell her another option exists, one that she knows I'll agree to. She's sure to like that, right?"

The alien looked suspicious. She knew something was off, but she couldn't quite tell what. Kirk felt bad for doing this to her – heaven knows, it wasn't _her_ fault she didn't 'get' human evasion – but he really could not answer a lot of the things he knew Nowmi wanted to ask him.

"I shall report to Miss Nowmi, and I shall then report to you her response."

Kirk beamed. "Excellent! I'll see you then."

The Vulcan squirmed a bit. "Yes, Captain."

Jim looked at her carefully. "…Is there anything else you need?"

T'Panya's ears went green, making Jim's eyes widen. "Oh, wow! Can I see?"

She looked at him strangely. "To what are you requesting?"

He cupped his hand around the outside curve of one ear, about two inches away from her skin. "Nothing. Just stay where you are."

She blinked at him, and seemed to get even more embarrassed. Jim abruptly shook himself. What the hell was he doing?

He leapt backwards. "_Shit_ I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

T'Panya blinked at him again. "…Accepted?"

Jim bowed sharply. "Sorry, sorry...," he murmured as he skittered away.

He caught a lift and stopped it between decks. _'What the fuck was _that_?'_ He'd been thinking about that ear-blush for a while now – ever since Spock went green in the Confidants Meeting – but that sure as hell wasn't an excuse for his behavior now.

_Shit._ Well, at least he hadn't done that to _Spock_. He would've been killed, or, at least, his carcass would've been desecrated, seeing as Uhura would've murdered him first.

_'That's probably her right as his girlfriend,'_ Jim mused. How long'd they been going out now… At least a year, no, more, the Narada was thirteen months ago, and they were together for god-knows-how-long before _that_…

Jim sighed and restarted the lift. He'd better get to the Bridge before Stevens did to put in that damn camera.

.bdobd.

"You did _WHAT?_"

T'Panya shrank into herself, terrified.

"He will allow a camera on the bridge in its stead!" she defended.

Zeb calmed down slightly. "So he won't talk to me, but he'll let Stevens put in something? Well, that's better than nothing." She peered closely at the Vulcan. "What'd he trade you this time?"

T'Panya stiffed, offended. "He found a promise of no contest to constant recording on an otherwise restricted area a better offer than certain protest to an hour-long interview."

"Well, I don't." Nowmi flung herself down into her desk chair. "T'Panya, I need an opportunity to _direct_ the conversation. With this _he's_ in charge. Again."

"Surely constant surveillance will reveal something of use."

Nowmi sighed. "Gods I hope so." She looked over to T'Panya. "You have any ideas on how to get him to agree to a sit-down session?"

The Vulcan considered the question carefully before answering. "If he is refusing on the grounds of possible offense taken by his superiors, than he would not want every moment of his day broadcast for all to see. Surely, if he holds contentious views, they will be revealed in his common discourses."

Zeb blinked at her. "Jesus. T'Panya," she said, grinning, "that's just _evil_."

.bdobd.

The camera had gone in without a fuss. Kirk had explained to the crew his situation, and everyone agreed that having a little lens set up on the Captain's armrest was the lesser of the two evils.

They hadn't expected Nowmi to post a live stream online. Everything they said or did was now a part of the public record.

When people started getting offended – mostly the families or planets of the various dignitaries that wandered in throughout the day, making complete asses of themselves – the crew began to edit what they did and said accordingly.

Kirk decided about a week into it that this was punishing everyone for his own resistance filming to a bit of tape, and told Nowmi that she had half an hour to ask everything she wanted from him, as long as she turned off the camera on the Bridge.

She agreed to his terms.

.bdobd.

T'Panya stuck her head into the rec room. "Miss Nowmi, the Captain has arrived."

Zeb straightened in her chair and pulled at the hem of her blouse. The door _fwoosh_ed open with an appropriate level of grandeur as the Captain stepped through.

This was going to be _amazing_; she'd wanted to do this for _years_…

Kirk stopped about a foot away from her, clearly suspicious. "Hey, Ms. Nowmi. Where'm I sitting?"

Zeb squirmed happily and gestured to the chair opposite herself. "Just here, Captain."

Kirk lowered himself into the hair with an air of impending doom. Zeb grinned. "There's no need to worry sir, we don't bite."

The Captain gave her a sardonic look.

Zeb beamed.

Kirk seemed to relax slightly. "Ok. So I'm here for half an hour… these aren't live, right?"

"No, but the footage might take longer to forty-five minutes to actually shoot. It's better to take extra."

Kirk sighed mournfully. Then he abruptly straightened, collecting himself. "Alright," he announced, gesturing to Stevens, "let free the wolves."

Stevens snorted softly and flicked on the camera. The machine, about the size of a deck of cards, whirred softly before becoming silent. A small green light flicked on.

Recording.

"Hello, I'm Zarabeth Nowmi from IPFPNN, here on the USS Enterprise with Captain Kirk. The Captain is probably best known for leading the successful attack on the Narada, but among Starfleet personnel he's more often referenced as 'the guy who got in the Captain's Chair before his thirtieth birthday.'"

She turned back to the Captain, who was staring at her incredulously. "What's with the intro?"

Nowmi blinked. "What?"

"What's with the intro? This isn't being shot live. Aren't you just gonna edit one in later?"

She spluttered. "Well, we've got you here, we have to do one on set."

He blinked at her. "So… Waitaminnut." He wasn't angry, simply confused. "I'm here, so you've got to record more of _yourself_ talking?"

Stevens smothered something raucous. Zeb glared at him, blushing beet red, while Kirk smiled with relief. "Fuck, if this's gonna be all _you_ talking, I'm in the clear!" He settled himself in his seat happily. "Talk away, m'dear. You're _saving _myass."

Stevens broke down. T'Panya was blinking at Nowmi like she was a newly discovered species of poisonous fungus. Kirk had stopped looking stressed and was crossing his legs authoritatively – god knows how he managed to _do_ that – suddenly owning the chair, the room, and the attention of everyone within a fifteen-foot radius.

Zeb wanted to hit him.

She decided to do the next best thing: Open with a question sure to get the Admiralty pissed.

_'No. Lure him in, first.'_

"So, you've been Captain for…what, a year now?"

Kirk grinned proudly, now perfectly chipper, the _sod_. "Thirteen and a half months."

"What'd you like to change about the current system?"

The blonde shifted. _'Ha.'_ "Well… It's kind of hard for me to answer that, actually, because I've been able to get so much done. Most of my big issue's've been with outdated regs – regulations.

"But I've been really lucky in that I've been able to challenge those regulations fairly easily. I have Spock on my side, and he's great about filing all of my complaints in a way that makes them sound not-raving-mad."

"Anything else?" _'Please? I mean, throw me a freaking bone here.'_

"Well, I wish there were move Captains, obviously. It'd solve this whole Admiralty problem, and it'd be nice to have some more active border patrol ships."

Nowmi ruffled through her old-fashioned notes, making Kirk grin. "You're after Bones's heart."

She smiled back. "I know, his office is stuffed with these," she waved the thick sheaf, "accursed things."

More ruffling. _'Damnit, that's the last time I forgo PostIts. Who _cares_ what they look like.'_ "So, back to the Admiralty. Why's that so important, anyway?"

"Okay!" Kirk clasped his hands together. "The system is structures around having more Captains that Admirals, first of all. Taking logs's gotten stupidly complex. Used to be that you had another Captain look them over, but there are so few of us that more Commanders are now de-facto Captains, at least in terms of files.

"This's freaked a couple of Captains out – they think treating the Commanders like Captains might breed mutiny (even though that's never happened before) –but the biggest issue's really favoritism. Used to be there weren't enough Admirals to go around, so favorites were treated way better than everyone else. Now there's a surplus of Admirals, and having a high-level buddy is expected.

"It's gotten to that being an _Admiral _without a _Captain _is seen as deficient, instead of the other way around. Anyway, so the Admirals are always stressing about not pissing off their Captains; that's a breeding ground for blackmail right there. _Also_, it's a hell of a lot easier for an Admiral to fuck with the whole Fleet. Used to be you needed to convince six Captains to go along with a scheme to get it to work, now, you just need three.

"But, of course, there's the fact that the Captains can now fly off with a sixth of all of the active Fleet members. So the Captains are more valuable, I guess. There's less of us, supply and demand, all that."

Kirk broke off, and started laughing. "'Course, no one can tell me what they actually _get_ out off all this! Everyone's so _concerned_, they don't seem to realize they can get everything they're begging for with a bit of creative filing!"

Nowmi leaned forward, too interested to remember to be angry. "What's an example?"

Kirk leaned back. "Humm. Well… Ok! The ship needed a replicator upgrade. We were taking on thirty more people and we needed another unit to feed everyone. But we weren't on the right list. So Spock figured out – bloody fucking genius that he is – that if you file two request for upgrades you get one deleted for being an ass, but the _other_ one's put to the top of the list!

"I have no idea _why_ – maybe to get the annoying people out of everyone else's hair? But we got our upgrades, and the entire thing's totally legal. There's no reg saying you can't file multiple copies of the same form. As long as there's no difference in the information on the thing, it doesn't matter how many times it's entered into the system."

Nowmi raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. "That sounds like a thin line to walk."

Kirk shrugged. "I'd be more worried if I didn't know everyone's at it. There're six ships. We need enough supplies to feed and fuel all of the crew on them. I don't think there is, physically, everything we _need_ in the Federation right now. Vulcan stored a lot of our supplies – the terrain was flat, there weren't many earthquakes, not many foreigners lived there, and the climate was all wrong for dangerous microbes to grow. Just too hot.

"And, I've got Spock, that makes everything, like, five times easier right off the bat."

"Yeah, you said that one other time…" Zeb flicked through her notes again. "The Commander files almost all of your logs and reports, usually directly to the Commodore's office. You're the only ship that got in all of your paperwork on time last year. Captain Topos, of the Potemkin, attributed that to your First Officer.

"What's different about Cmdr. Spock? Why is he so valuable?"

Kirk looked at her as if he'd never even considered the question. "…Well, he's, you know, _him._ What do you mean?" 

"What does he do that makes him so much more than every other First Officer?"

Kirk smiled. "Why's he made of amazing? Well, he's damn good at paperwork, first of all. He's the only guy, in the entire Fed, I think, that actually _knows the regulations_. Everyone else specializes in their own little section, but he gets the whole thing.

"So that's stupidly useful. He also seems to know someone in every part of the Fed. I don't know how he pulled this off, but it seems like _someone_ one every committee has spoken personally to him or his dad. Also, stupidly useful.

"Never hurts that he's a hybrid, and he's Vulcan, for the media." He gave her a little nod. "Always makes the Enterprise front page news, which helps get the ear of the Council in serious situations.

"And then, he was a teacher at the Academy, so every single professor loves him. Did you know that he standardized the Fleet?" Zeb blinked at him in surprise. One of the biggest criticisms the Academy had always gotten was that across the different divisions there was a huge quality gap in some key parts of the curriculum.

Kirk nodded. "Yep. With the Narada taking out more than five sixths of the Fleet, basically everyone in active duty had him as a teacher at some point or another. He's like, the granddaddy of contemporary Academy education."

Zeb tilted her head. "But I thought that you were the reason that so many people have been recruited to the Fleet. That's what the Admiralty's said, anyway."

The Captain winked at her. "I'm the reason they _come_. He's the reason they _stay._"

Zeb blinked at him some more, then beamed. _'That'll make a great soundbite…'_ "Ok, so he's great on the ship, with superiors, with professors… What about with the Admiralty itself?"

Kirk considered his answer for a while. "…That's a really good question. I know that he's got a pretty good relation with Commodore Barnett. And I know that Pike really likes him. Archer's always happy to see him – I'm pretty sure that has to do with T'Pol being on his ship – Nestly should also like him, he was head of the Linguistics department for, like, ever…"

"Wait, what does that have to do with anything?"

Kirk looked surprised. "Oh, you don't know? Nestly's big on Communications."

He murmured something to himself.

"What was that?"

"What? Oh, just saying that Calta might not like him very much then."

Zeb blinked. "Why not?"

"Calta and Nestly hate each other. Calta loves Tactical and Navigation, so he loves Chekov, obviously, but I'm trying to think if I've ever seen Spock talk to him. I don't think I have. I'll have to look into that."

Zeb ruffled through her sheaf a bit. "I'm not finding anything on feuds in the Admiralty. Are there any more like that?"

Kirk thought for a minute. "I… don't think so? I know Hivash doesn't like Tactical and Navigation; she's really popular within the Medical divisions. But I don't think anything like Calta and Nestly's thing is anywhere else in the Admiralty."

"Does every Admiral have a specialty, or just –,"

The camera clicked off. "Forty-five minutes have elapsed," T'Panya announced superfluously.

The Captain stood and stretched. "Was that enough to keep you busy for a while?"

Zeb looked through the transcript the camera was already computing. She beamed at him. "This'll keep us busy for quite some time, sir."

He gave a huge yawn. "That's good. I'll need a good month to finish up Damage Control for this…"

He walked out of the rec room. Zeb turned to Stevens, who looked just as happy as she felt. This was gonna be _amazing._

.bdobd.


	8. Discussions

A/N: Hey, that wasn't so bad a wait this time. Ha ha!

A ways in there's a scene where I tried to write what it was to think while panicked, would you guys mind giving me some feedback on it? I'm not sure if it worked.

.bdobd.

A furious Pike was waiting in Jim's quarters.

"The FUCK were you thinking, doing an interview? How stupid _are_ you? I mean, really, _Nowmi?_ Really? Your first face-to-face was with –,"

Jim was still trying to recover from the 'stupid' comment. Pike'd never said anything like that to him before, at least, not to his face. "Hey, wait a minute, this isn't fair. I called Barnett and asked if I had clearance, and he said yes. Why are you yelling at me now?"

"_Barnett _said that?" Pike looked extremely suspicious. "What _exactly_ did he think you two were talking about?"

"Giving an interview, I thought. It's not _that_ difficult a concept to grasp."

"Did you ever _say_ you were going live recording? Because –,"

"Hold up." Kirk's tone turned incredulous. "Live? I never agreed to live. She said she was just taking footage."

Pike raised an eyebrow. "Did she say when she'd release it?"

"Well, no."

"Ok. It was released less than an hour ago. She –,"

Jim squinted at the older man. "That doesn't make any sense; I only gave them forty-five minutes of footage. How could you have seen all of the interview in five minutes?"

"She must have started showing it during the interview."

Jim tilted his head. "Huh?"

Pike looked like he was about to cry. "Is Spock there? Did he know about this?"

The blonde glanced away shiftily. "We're having a… minor disagreement –,"

"Oi." The Admiral sighed. "Well, it happens to everyone at some point. Came at a terrible time though. Look," he leaned forward, " 'live recording' means you're airing footage _as it's happening_.

"Nowmi probably just started to air the tape while you were still talking to her. That way, it was staggered, and it could still be called 'prerecorded', even though film was being aired while the rest of the interview was being taped."

Jim did a remarkable koi impression before spluttering mightily. "But – But – That can't _count_. Why does that count? That's weird. Why wasn't I told?"

"Well, that's why I was asking for _Spock_, but –,"

"No, why didn't _Barnett_ warn me? He said that he'd clear prerecorded, that that'd be fine and that as long as he got it first –,"

"Now, there's your problem." Pike waved a parentally condescending finger at him. "He _didn't_ get it first. Or, he didn't get it first soon enough. Are you sure he knew that it was one-on-one?"

Jim was totally exasperated. "Well what _else_ could it have been? I asked if I was cleared to talk to Nowmi; isn't that _a bit of a fucking hint_ –,"

"Could he have thought you were talking about a prerecorded _statement_?"

Jim paused to consider this. "…I guess. But why would I do that? That doesn't make any sense."

Pike shrugged. "I dunno. I just work with the guy."

Jim sighed and looked around his room. "Do you wanna sit down?"

"Wha?" Pike seemed to realize that he was standing for the first time. "Oh, yeah, that'd be nice actually."

Jim walked over to his desk chair and dumped a pile of PADDs unceremoniously to the floor. Pike walked over and stared mournfully at the little machines.

"That's a good thousand credits you just threw down there."

Jim glared at the PADDs with loathing. "That's also a month's worth of paperwork."

Pike shrugged consideringly. "True, true." He plopped heavily into the chair while Jim took a position on the bed. The older man sighed. "I think you've managed to piss off everyone I know. All of the Admiralty're pissed, and a good number of captains are going to be, also."

Jim gave him an incredulous look. "What've they got to be angry about?"

"Well, you said their Firsts were incompetent, for one thing."

The blonde stiffened. "The hell I did! I just said Spock's great, that has nothing to do with –,"

"You said that having him made it easier than usual for you to get things done, assumption is that everyone _else's_ Firsts _aren't_ as good, and things aren't as easy for them."

"But that's _true_."

"And?"

Jim waited for him to continue, and groaned when Pike didn't. "It's not my fault Spock is made of amazing! He just _is!_ It doesn't have anything to _do_ with –,"

"It has everything to do with everyone, and you know it." Pike shot him a stern look. "Aren't you always complaining that the Fleet's not as open as it should be? Well, this's why: Everyone's so damn easy to offend. And don't think _you're_ any different; if Nimeret said – who's his first, Yevak? – was the best thing ever, rest assured you'd call me ten minutes later bitching about how Spock was in a funk because some dipshit Odyssey captain called _his_ FO 'the best the Fleet has'."

Jim got up and began to pace. Pike stood as well, but stayed stationary: His mobility'd been screwed up by that slug Nero'd made him swallow. "It's not _lying_ if it's _true._ It's not _bragging_ if it's true _either_; Nimeret and everyone else just _wishes_ they had –,"

"And about that! What's with the 'Spock rules the Academy' line? You're terrifying Barnett, and you_ know_ that bastard's paranoid."

Kirk did the equivalent of raising his hackles. "Well he _does_. The professors love him; his curriculum is what everyone follows; the science AND command AND communications boards adore him –,"

"Damnit Kirk, you _know_ that just because it's true doesn't mean you say it!"

"The fact that it's true means that you _should!_"

"_No!_ We assigned you Uhura for a _reason_; she knows what you _say_ and _when_ to say it; where the _fuck_ was your Communications officer when –!"

"She was dealing with that damn camera that _you_ let Nowmi stick on _my _Bridge! If you –!"

"_Me?_ I had _nothing _to do with that and you _know_ it; it's _your_ goddamn responsibility to keep garbage off your _own ship's Bridge!_"

"It's not like I could –!"

"Do what? Make her stop? She's _three fucking people_ Kirk; if you can't stop her I don't know how the _hell_ you expect to make it through four more years!"

Kirk spun about and slammed his fist into the wall next to his comm unit. He couldn't hit Pike, he'd be martialed. Pike shut up.

"…Listen," the Admiral said at length. "You just need to be careful about what you say things to. You can't trust everyone with the same information; you know that."

Kirk was still glaring at the wall, which'd been having a terrible afternoon thus far. "I _know_. But I don't know what's confidential; I _suck_ at that. I need help with this shit."

"Where was McCoy in all of this? Couldn't you go to him?"

Jim shook his head. "Not really. He's just as bad as I am."

There was an awkward silence as Pike worked to change topics. "…Look, Kirk. This might be a weird question, but…You still trust McCoy, right? He's been pretty cozy with Hivash lately, and if _you're_ getting worried…"

The blonde turned to look at him incredulously. "Bones? And _Hivash_? The guy didn't even know she _existed_ until I pointed it out to him."

Pike gave him a hard look. "Are you sure? Really sure? Because you're in the most dangerous position of anyone in the captaincy. Your CMO and your FO are both chatting up two separate Admirals; if anyone's going down because of this whole 8-to-6 fiasco, it's gonna be you."

Jim blinked at him. "I really, really, really do not think that McCoy has the desire or the means to take over the Enterprise. I just don't."

The Admiral sighed, defeated. "Alright. As long as you're totally sure, I won't get worried. Tell me if you're concerned, okay?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, fine. See ya 'round, sir."

Pike waved tiredly. "See ya, Kirk."

.bdodb.

Jim burst into Sickbay with his usual flair, terrifying some of the newer, flutterier nurses. The reception nurse just grinned at him. Sickbay was_ way_ more fun when you weren't sick.

"Should I –?"

"Let him know I'm here? What? And ruin the fun?"

The exuberant blonde crashed through Bone's old-fashioned door, frightening the innocent CMO half to death.

At least, that's what Bones said, the furious Georgian looked perfectly healthy to Jim. "Damnit Kirk! You could _warn me_ before breaking my office; you're gonna be the death of me I _swear it_; when I die you do _not_ come to my funeral; is that understood?"

Jim flopped happily into a chair that had remained somehow unmolested by the small skyscrapers of paper files that littered the office. "Oh, you love me, don't fool yourself."

The doctor heaved himself from behind his desk with a mighty grumble, and muttered all the way from his chair to the liquor cabinet and back to his chair, not even stopping while he poured alcohol.

"You owe me," he growled as he lowered himself back down, "that's the _good_ brandy."

Jim beamed. "I sure as hell do. How've you been?"

Bones gave a one-shoulder shrug, careful not to upset the glass he was raising to his lips. "I'm fine," he responded after a long drink, "but I'm busy as all hell. These diplomats know how to talk their way out of anything but bad health. I've been booked solid for the past week, getting all those physicals done."

Jim winced sympathetically. "I hear ya." He shlurped at his drink and gave it an appraising look. "You're right, this stuff _is_ good. Where'd you find it?"

Bones tried to fight off a bit of preening, but he failed pretty badly. "Arguilos IV has a great little brewery in their southern capital; I wrangled up an invitation to a tour last time we were there."

The blonde grinned. "I don't think that's what Capson meant when he said to 'Try the local produce.'"

"Oh, shuddup. It's local and it's produced there, what more does he want? He's an idiot anyway."

Jim snickered. "Careful not to say that too loud, he might overhear you."

Bones shuddered. "God, it's fucking creepy having all of them here. I don't like it."

"Neither does anyone else, I'd imagine. Having all of the Admirals here's a pain in the ass, I can tell you that right now."

"Oh?" The doctor settled into proper Male Gossiping Position: one arm 'casually' draped across an armrest, one hand holding a drink, and slouched backwards so as to project an air of slight indifference. But not too much, of course, that'd dissuade the other person from speaking, don'cha know.

Jim leaned forward. "So, I did that interview to get Nowmi off the Bridge, right?"

Bones nodded. "Yeah."

"So, I come back from the rec room to have Pike-of-all-people standing in my quarters! 'Parently I didn't say what the Admiralty wanted me to and the universe is falling to ruins again."

Bones snorted contemptuously. "Bless his little heart. I usually like the guy, but isn't the world going to hell seven times a second? 'S not even news any more."

"Yeah, well, _he_ told _me_ that _he_ thought that _you_ were planning to take over the ship!"

Bones spat brandy back into his glass. "He did not!"

"He did! I told him it was bullshit, but he seemed _pret-ty _convinced that you and Hivash were going to – fuck, I don't even _know_ – lead an army of sick diplomats and bloodthirsty nurses against me?"

Bones pointed an accusing finger at his nose. "Hey, my nurses are _terrifying_. Don't you forget that."

Jim raised his hands in deference. "_Trust_ me," he said with a laugh, "I _know_, I get mugged by them every month, don't I? Anyway, I thought it was weird that Pike thought that you were a threat to my captaincy, as opposed to, like, Spock or Uhura or something."

"Humm. Well, Uhura's probably too low-level to be _too_ worrying…" Bones mused, "And he _knows_ Spock. He doesn't know me."

"I think it was more that Hivash likes you out of everyone," Jim responded. "But that still leaves Spock and Barnett alone to scheme. It's really odd that he'd bring up you and not him."

Bones nodded and frowned. "'Specially considering Spock's the son of a diplomat who trained, basically, every cadet that we have and who's on speaking terms with Barnett, Commodore and reputable asshole, and a couple of Admirals and a Federation founding planet."

"And there are two of him, no less; he can start something on the ship and have the other him stir up trouble on Vulcan II."

Bones considered this. "I don't think he _would_, though. I just can't see him causing any problems for ya."

Jim nodded. "I don't think he would either. He doesn't have any reason to; it'd be illogical; and he's still guilty from screwing up during the Narada. He doesn't want a ship, and he sure as hell doesn't want the Enterprise."

"But it's more than that, he doesn't want to hurt _you_."

Jim did his best impression of Spock's left eyebrow. "…That's not quite it, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"How's it not it?" Bones leaned forward to make his point. "The man hates it in _here_," Bones did a little flourishy thing to indicate Sickbay, "as much as you do, but he always throws himself in front of anything that has a _chance_ of hurting you. You remember Omicron Theta?"

Jim winced. "How could I not? It's practically the new textbook's definition of 'catastrophe'."

It'd been _awful_. The Enterprise had been sent to see if a pre-warp planet that was rich in natural nitrogen fertilizers could be mined without upsetting the natives.

Jim, Spock, and two science techs beamed down and were poking around some caves when one of the techs screamed. Jim and Spock ran to see what'd happened and found the woman being _eaten_ by some wild something-or-other.

So Jim took out his phaser and shot, and then realized that the fog which covered the planet fucked with phasers and he'd just wasted one of, like, four shots the damn thing had left in it, and then the wild something pounced and Spock _got in-between Jim and the monster_ and got his right arm nearly taken off.

So then Jim had a dead tech and a Vulcan First who was bleeding from all kinds of places and _no phaser_ so he took Spock and ran and in doing so _dropped the phaser_ because _surely_ such a useless piece of shit wouldn't _harm anything_ just lying about for a couple minutes.

So he got Spock away, finally, and the monster couldn't get into this little den that Jim found and Spock was _covered in blood_, like dripping from the bottom of his shirt soaked, and the _goddamned fucking comm didn't work_.

So Jim tore up his shirt and part of Spock's and tried to stop the bleeding, and then attempted to dig his way out he back of the den, because the monster-thing was at the front and was pacing and looking pissed.

Well, it turns out that when nitrogen fertilizers are precipitated from water high in carbonates, it makes an odd sort of dust-stuff that is not good for Vulcan's sanity, like, at all, and Jim learned about this when Spock _left the fucking den_ and went _outside_ to face the monster thing alone, because, you know, it'd be a good idea and all of that.

And Jim only realized this when he went back into the main part of the den ten minutes later and Spock, you know, _wasn't there._ So he ran outside and there's his First Officer wrestling with the green/black/blue _death machine_ monster and Jim panicked because Spock was going to _die_ and that would be _bad_ and he could never talk to _anyone_, _ever_ again, about his deep and slightly embarrassing love for temporal mechanics.

So Jim ran outside and tried to pull Spock away and that _did not work_, like, at _all_, and Jim got thrown into a tree trunk and passed out.

He came to with Spock grabbed onto him and _sobbing_, actually sobbing, because he thought he'd killed Jim. Well, Jim wasn't dead, and now he had to tell Spock this, and he reached up to tap him on the head to say 'Hey, I'm alive, for god's sakes stop crying you're making my _heart_ hurt and _stop please_,' and this was apparently an offensive gesture to the natives who'd been watching for a while, apparently, and shot at Jim and Spock.

Spock went ape-shit and _destroyed_ the few people who were standing around, and Jim was too stunned to stop him because _christ_ the man was _so angry_ and what the _fuck?_ and then the other science tech popped up next to Jim and when Jim turned to talk to him, the guy just was going to give Jim back the phaser he'd dropped when Spock came back, now totally sopping wet from like, the _knee up_ in blood, and the tech had a nervous breakdown and _shot at Spock_ and hit him, and Spock just looked surprised for a second and then the phaser fucking shorted and backfired and killed the tech.

And and then Jim was spluttering about how there was no one left except for them and the communicators didn't work and they were going to _die_ and Spock was just _looking _at him like 'Dude, what're you _talking_ about? We _totally_ got this' when Scotty beamed them back on board the ship and Jim and Spock were sent to Sickbay for three and a half eternities.

The planet wasn't used for mining in the end.

"Yeah, that was a disaster," Bones said, brining Jim so sharply back into the present that got whiplash. "But you remember that Spock went out to fight that monster-thing? He did that of his own volition, he didn't need to. And he's _always _doing shit like that. The guy'd kill himself for you. There's no way he's taking the Enterprise away from you, _unless_ he thinks that it'd help you somehow."

Jim squirmed uncomfortably. "He wouldn't _kill_ himself, that wouldn't make any sense."

"Does going after a monster on an alien planet with no weapons and no medical care _make sense?_ The only guy he's willing to kill for is you, you get that, right? Anyone else, he'd just knock the other guys out, but he demolished those natives who shot at you."

Jim blinked for a while. "…I really, really don't like to think about that."

Bones nodded sympathetically. "I know, it leads all sorts of weird places."

Jim sighed.

Bones grinned at him wearily. "You know, you two could take over the Fed if you wanted."

The blond nodded, morose. "Yeah. Again, don't like to think about that."

"With you getting all the cadets and the public together, and Spock handling the diplomats and the higher-ups –,"

"And you taking care of the principled minority and the trained professionals," Jim added.

Bones paused before nodding almost cheerfully and continuing, "And me, we could actually take over."

Jim shrugged. "I know. I really, really don't want to though."

Bones raised his glass in a toast. "Amen to that, brother." Jim smiled at clinked the cups together.

He leaned back with a long-suffering sigh. "Y'know, I think just Spock could do it, actually."

Bones was taking a sip of brandy and so just raised his eyebrows at the blonde.

"No, really, think about it. Spock goes to the teachers at the Academy, tells them it's time to revolt against something appropriately patriotic-y, and the teachers turn the cadets against the Admiralty, along with contacting all their principled-minority-and-trained-professional pals. Spock goes to his dad and his diplomatic buddies and tells them that the teachers and the cadets are doing a principled takeover because of above patriotic-y thing.

"Then he goes to Pike and anyone else in the Admiralty or Council that'll listen and convince them to go along with the revolt. Meanwhile, the cadets are stirring up the public to take their side. Boom, revolt, with the cadets, the teachers, the trained people, the Council, the diplomats, and the public, all on his side of it.

"If he played it right, he could flip the government on its head in a month."

Bones was staring at him over the rim of his glass. "You _don't_ like to think about it? You've get this whole thing pretty well planned out."

Jim did a one-shoulder shrug. "I was worried about it in the very beginning, but now I'm not. He wouldn't do that."

"He'd do it for you."

Jim shook his head. "I wouldn't ask him to. He _could_ do it, but it'd kill him a bit. It'd be cruel."

Bones set down his glass slowly. "Is that what this fight between the two of you's about? He thinks that the Fed needs to be flipped, and you don't wanna do it?"

"What?" The idea'd never even crossed Jim's mind. "No, I tested to see how far he'd go for me." He squirmed. "As far as he possibly can, apparently. And I told him, and he feels used."

"You know he'll come back."

Jim looked at the tiny bit of brandy still left in his cup. "That's the freaky thing, honestly."

Bones sighed and Jim drained his glass, preparing to leave. Bones reached across the desk and gripped his shoulder tightly.

"It'll be alright," he said. "It's fucking awful right now, but we'll all be fine. We always are, somehow."

Jim nodded into his lap, not daring to look up. Bones moved his hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, and began carding the hair there.

Jim sighed and lowered his head so that Bones could get better access. There were definite perks to having a best friend who was also a dad.

Bones kept up the motions for a few minutes before lowering his hand to the base of Jim's neck to rest. "Y'know," he started, "I'd be more worried about Barnett and Hivash going for the gold."

Jim looked up. "Why? They haven't got much to gain form a revolt."

Bones let his hand drag across Jim's shoulder as he went to refill their glasses. "I don't think it's gaining something so much as not losing something else. They're pretty scared of a revolution, Hivash told me so herself."

Jim swiveled to keep the doctor in his sight. "Oh, yeah, how's the confidants thing going? I've been so pissed with Nowmi that I forgot to check up on it."

"It's fine," Bones said over the purl of the pouring brandy. "It's kinda embarrassing how easy it is; Hivash's been coming to Sickbay all by her lonesome, just to talk."

"Well, it's better for us." Bones nodded agreeably into the cabinet. "What she say about a revolution?"

"She's worried about all of the new cadets being taught the same curriculum." Bones walked back carefully, picking his way around the paper towers. "From what I can tell, they screwed with the lessons on purpose to keep everyone from getting the same information all at once. That way it'd be harder for dissatisfied teachers from screwing with all of the cadets."

"That's one way to stop a revolution, make sure no one has all of the information. Yum, thanks," he said as Bones handed him another brandy.

"No problem." Bones reclaimed the chair across the desk. "So she's worried about Spock being the one to set the standards, too. Either she thinks that he's a loose cannon, or she thinks you're getting him to act like one – I think it's the second, actually, she _really_ doesn't like you – but either way it gets her nervous.

"_And_," Bones reassumed Male Gossiping Position, "she and Barnett go back a ways. I'm not sure how far, but she's definitely very receptive to his ideas, and she's always ready to put his version of events above everyone else's."

"And Barnett hates me too," Jim finished.

Bones shrugged. "Yeah, well. 'S not exactly a secret."

Jim nodded agreeably. "True, true. How's everyone else been with their Admirals?"

"They all seem fine. I think it'd be good for you to come and eat with us at lunch again; it'd be a lot easier to tell you this daily."

"Trust me, I want to." The blonde swirled his drink and took a healthy gulp. "But these Councilpeople are just _hounding_ me, lunch's practically a diplomatic event now."

Bones grinned at him. "Do you have your own committee yet?"

Jim shuddered dramatically. "God no."

The doctor grinned evilly. "They you'll know you've got _real _power."

Jim snorted into his alcohol. "Yeah. One of these days, I'll even work my way up to an abbreviation."

Bones laughed, surprised, and they toasted again.

.bdobd.


	9. Disobedient

A/N: You many officially blame Product of a Sick Society for the lag: we were having these EPIC debates about atomic theory and time and Tim Horton's (Canadian coffee shop) and Target and then I went 'OH SHIT' and realized that I hadn't written anything non-Canada related for a while, and so I sat down and dashed this off while waiting for her to reply back.

Chapter dedicated to Product of a Sick Society, for making me love atoms again :D

.bdobd.

Fifteen days after landing on Tellar, Spock decided to exit his quarters.

He had considered the words of T'Pau in depth, and had come to the conclusion that if the Captain had taken offence to his actions, then his first task was to apologize to the human in the Terran manner. It was, after all, his insistence on the application of Surakian principles to every order of business that had caused the disruption.

At least, he believed this to be the cause. The main obstacle that had impeded progress in his meditation was that Spock could not isolate when he had gone astray. T'Pau had called attention to a series of faults either so egregious or so subtle that Spock could not quite figure out what, exactly he had done wrong.

Most likely, the Captain would be able to explain.

Spock stood from his meditation posture, put away his candles, and changed from his robes to his Commander's uniform. It was past time he had returned to duty.

Locating the Captain proved to be an unexpected issue. No crewmember seemed to remember the blonde entering or leaving any room during the day.

None of said crewmembers had any explanation of how the captain of a constitution-class starship could not be seen on his own ship for the entirety of a day.

Finally, Spock was left with only one area left to explore: the Security decks.

The Security Decks housed few actual crewpeople; there was simply no need to do so. Live surveillance of camera footage was unneeded; there had been programs for detecting unusual behavior patterns in such tapes for decades.

As the Captain had an odd habit of being in the exact place he was least expected to be, Spock really should not have been surprised to have met him exiting a surveillances room.

He appeared surprised, but not negatively affected. "Spock! I was just thinking about you. How've you been, I haven't seen you around much."

It was a gross understatement. Spock had not reported for duty for half of a Standard month. A hot wave of shame hit the hybrid, and the Commander worked to repress it.

"I… Captain, may we speak in a more secluded area?"

The Captain blinked. His apparent incredulity was understandable: there was no one in the corridor excepting themselves. But Spock had the distinct impression that T'Pau would ask the Captain to provide evidence of his amends, and the Security decks were the only places on the ship without surveillance equipment. Why would the surveillance team need to survey themselves?

"Um, yeah? Where'd you have in mind?"

"Would recreation room 4 suffice?"

The Captain was looking at him strangely. Spock could not decode his expression. "…Yeah, that's fine." He gestured for Spock to begin moving.

They were waiting for the turbolift to become available when the Captain spoke again. "You know, you never told me how you've been."

The Captain seemed… amused? Pleased? Condescending? Saddened? Why could he not read his superior as was usual; when had he failed even in this? Jim's – _no_, the Captain's, he was being disrespectful – eyes widened and the human rushed to alter his request. "Look, you don't _have_ to tell me, I was just curious."

Spock glanced almost desperately at the other man. What was he to say?

Whatever the Captain had been feeling, it had quickly turned to concern. "Look, Spock, do you need to go to Sickbay? Because you're acting kind of strangely, I can't tell what's going on."

What was he to say?

The turbolift's doors opened and Lieutenant T'Rnak stepped out. Jim – _no,_ the Captain, had he just not corrected this error? – looked for Spock to make a decision: were they to proceed to room 4, or was Spock to declare himself ill?

Spock stepped into the lift. Kirk – was 'Kirk' disrespectful'? – _the Captain_ seemed suspicious.

It was an uncomfortable trip for no rational reason.

The lift finally stopped at Deck Q and a Half – which was not the official name, but as the majority of the crew seemed ignorant of its proper title, so it had become the most efficient to use the adopted one. The two officers entered the recreation room and sat on couches opposite each other.

There was silence for one and five-eighths minutes.

Then the Captain leaned forward, clearly very uneasy. "Spock. Look at me." Spock had been staring at the table in between the two sofas, content to avoid direct eye contact with his superior.

Spock looked directly at his captain, and felt ill. He had no clairvoyant tendencies, but he suddenly had the distinct impression that this conversation was not going to be an enjoyable experience.

"Hey." The Captain adopted a softer tone. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on. Can you tell me what's been happening to you?"

Spock blinked quietly for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "…I met with T'Pau on Tellar, and we had a discussion."

He paused, wondering how much of his conversation was private clan business and how much the Captain would need. Not much, he was more interested in the effects of it, apparently. "In it, she brought to my attention the fact that I have been increasingly contemptuous towards you and my position in Starfleet."

Spock bowed his head. "I have…attempted to solve the issue through meditation, but in doing so I realize that I have neglected my duties as an officer aboard your vessel. I…I do not know what to do."

The Captain was gaping at him. He appeared totally stunned. "…Spock?"

The hybrid braced himself for a huge emotional reaction. "Yes, Captain?"

"I…" The Captain leaned back into the couch and put a hand to his forehead, pressing as if to ensure that it was still there. "I…You…Are you fucking _kidding me?_"

The Captain was suddenly on his feet, yelling. Spock shrank back into the couch, almost relieved to have gotten an easily quantifiable reaction. Better than the news of the Narada's planned trajectory, worse than the news of the arrival of many diplomats.

"_I'm _stuck with a shipload of _diplomatic assholes,_ who _won't fucking leave me alone _because I keep on saying I'll schedule a meeting and then _genuinely important shit _comes up and I have to cancel, and _you_ haven't been able to stand in for me because your fucking _aunt_ called you _arrogant?_"

The blonde began to roam his side of the room, visibly shaking with barely restrained anger. "I mean, _I _thought that you'd been, I don't know, _gathering information_ or something fucking PRODUCTIVE and here you are telling me that you sat on your bed with your thumb up your ass and _thought deeply_? I've been running this goddamned thing alone for more than two weeks; just who the _fuck _do you think you are? You _can NOT_ do that on my ship, do you understand me?"

The Captain had planted himself directly in Spock's line of sight across the table, leaning close to shout as loudly as he could directly at the disobedient hybrid. Spock bowed his head. "Yes, Captain. What are my orders as how to rectify the consequences of my behavior?"

The Captain blinked at him in apparent…shock, yes, that was definitely shock. "…What?"

He had switched to his normal speaking tone, though it was hoarse from shouting. "Clearly, I have been derelict in my actions and thoughts. What are my directives for repairing the damage I have wrought?"

The blonde straightened and looked to him as if stunned. "…I…What the hell?" He shook his head as if to rid it of unwelcome thoughts. "Waitaminnut. _What?…_What _exactly _did T'Pau say? Because two weeks ago, if I'd've done this you'd've beaten me like it was going out of style. What the hell _happened_ to you?"

Spock blinked at him. "I was told that my behavior was unacceptable, by the head of my family, and that I was to cease immediately, or punishment would be afflicted."

The Captain looked horrified. "_What?_" The human crossed his arms and became totally professional. "Tell me _exactly _what she said."

Spock did not understand why this was so shocking to the Captain, and knew that he must appear very obtuse at the moment. "T'Pau spoke in High Vulcan, shall I –?"

"Translate it. As literally as possible, or as what you understood it to mean."

Whatever the Captain's reaction to this, it was not going to be positive. "'Thou shalt serve whom you hath chosen to subordinate or a commander shalt be chosen for thee. Thou hath had the opportunity to serve under a people of your choosing, even during a true crisis of Vulcan; if thou art to disregard such thou shalt be ordered back to thine home planet where thou shalt stay for as long as thy Council wills it.'"

Spock had expected a fury of some sort. Not horror. "Wait. If you don't act like she thinks you should, she'll take you away from me?"

The hybrid blinked some more. "I…I suppose that is one interpretation. Iwas… more concerned with being ordered back to Vulcan II without consultation, but –,"

"But, wait, it's been pretty well proven that I can't function without you; they can't _do_ that."

"…Yes they can."

"_What?_ Since when?" The Captain began pacing again, but not out of anger: he was obviously distraught, but Spock had no _idea_ as to why. "Why can they do that?"

"…I am a Vulcan citizen. Why should the High Council of Vulcan be unable to order me to the colony to participate in trials or questionings pertaining to the safety of Vulcan? The Terran government has the power to direct its citizens as well."

"But…" Kirk ran his hands through his hair. "This doesn't _count_ for that; this's Fleet business, not Vulcan! Right?"

When had this turned from Spock asking for direction to Kirk asking for comfort? "As Vulcans are now an endangered species, such an argument would not be very strong. If I am ordered, I shall go."

"The hell you will!" Kirk came around the table to yell at Spock from behind the armrest. "Do you know what utter _shit_ these past three days have been? I did an – did you see the interview?"

Spock blinked quietly for a moment at the sudden change in topic and tone. Kirk sighed. "Okay, apparently not. I sat down with Nowmi for an hour to get her to take her camera off of the Bridge. Were you there for that?"

Spock shook his head. "Fuck, you _did_ miss a lot. Right, from the beginning:" Kirk resettled himself in preparation. "We beamed down to Tellar, you talked to T'Pau, I talked to the Tellarites, crew were carted away. We all beamed back, _you_ ran away to go sit on your ass."

The hybrid winced at the characterization, but said nothing. He deserved this. "So Nowmi starts hounding me for an interview and I say instead, I'll let a camera on the Bridge. She sets up a live feed so anyone can watch what we do, and it's stupidly stressful for everyone, so I wind up agreeing to do an interview."

The blonde inhaled noisily. "So, in said interview, I mentioned that you were amazing – ignoring the fact that you _weren't with me_, of course – and that pissed off the other Captains. I also managed to say that you had the most influence within the Fleet, which fucking terrified the Admiralty and pissed off all of the Councilpeople.

"So then the Councilpeople – being idiots, the fucking lot of them – they start calling the Admiralty to complain, forgetting, of course, that all of the Admirals are _on the same fucking ship that they are!_ So now there are these verbal knock-down-drag-out sessions at lunch where it's Barnett v. Anjrew, or something, and then everyone stuffs their faces, agrees I'm an idiot, and calms down, _just to repeat the whole damn thing tomorrow!_

"And through all of this, I'm having constant complaints from these fuckers that I'm not giving them enough _attention_, that I really should talk to them _more_, and I tell them that 'As soon as Spock's better, we can fix this, 'cause there's gotta be _someone_ running the ship and Sulu's nearly _dead_ and Mathers is an idiot, and _you weren't there!_"

Kirk was huffing softly by the end of his tirade. "And so!" he continued, "I still have no idea _why _you thought it was okay to _abandon me to the fucking wolves_."

The Captain crossed his arms and waited for a response.

Spock… Really did not have one to give. "…I am afraid that I can offer you no excuses, sir. Or explanations. I behaved abominably. I acted contrary to my duties as your First Officer and as a Commander of Starfleet." He bowed his head. "I am unsure as to how to rectify the damages done by my actions."

The Captain took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. From the top, then. Again. _What_ did you do for fifteen days?"

"I was in deep meditation."

"You meditated for fifteen days."

"Affermative."

"_Jesus fucking Christ._" The Captain took another breath. Spock thought of recommending an appointment with Doctor McCoy to see to his respiratory issues, but decided against it. "Alright. Alright, so, did you talk to anyone during that time?"

"Negative."

"No one. Anyone at all. Voices in your head that sound suspiciously like Barnett. Anyone."

"Admiral Barnett, sir?" Spock was confused. "I fail to see what the Commodore has to do with this discussion."

Kirk gave him a level stare. "You don't even have an _inkling _of what's going on, do you."

Spock's mother once described a sensation of being 'kicked in the stomach'. Apparently, it had little to do with the actual organ involved, more with the emotions of surprise and shock and horror that immediately followed such an attack.

Spock flinched, then swallowed. "…I… Apparently not, sir."

Kirk gave him an odd look, and then appeared horrified again. "_Shit,_ Spock I'm sorry, I didn't… I should've –,"

"It is apparently an apt description of my knowledge of current events. You are simply bringing my attention to this fact."

Kirk bit his lip in clear distress, "No, it's –,"

"You were in the midst of an inquiry, sir?"

Kirk halted his speech and sighed, depressed. "Yeah, I was. So you didn't talk to anyone?"

"I communicated to or with no person through any means."

"Okay." Kirk took another deep breath. Was he attempting to calm himself? It was not very effective. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"It is unnecessary. What are my directives?"

"What?"

"Unless I am under suspension for poor performance?" Kirk gaped at him, and Spock stood. Of course he was under suspension, he had run from his duties and his commanding officer for two weeks. "I apologize for my assumptions, Captain, I shall –. Captain?"

The Captain had his head in his hands and his shoulders were shaking. It did not sound as if he was crying, however, so, "Sir, are you _laughing?_"

Kirk raised his head from his hands. He was chuckling softly, but he sounded slightly hysterical. "Didn't mean to, s'rry. I just –," he was interrupted by his own laughter, "no, no, you're not suspended. Fuck, what am I gonna do without you? I can't do this by myself, these last three days've beaten that shit too far into my head to ignore it."

"…I am… uncertain to as to respond properly, sir."

Kirk sighed. "For gods sakes, if you've seen me this pissed and are still in the same room with me, call me Jim. Or else I'll really go crazy."

Spock considered this carefully. He was still not sure what T'Pau was seeking, but surely, whatever it was, it did not exclude helping Kirk. "Yes, sir."

Kirk glared at him playfully. "Jim."

"…Jim. Are you sure?"

Jim grinned wanly. "Not really. But I'll give it a shot."

.bdobd.

During the next five days Jim had the dubious pleasure of seeing Spock utterly pwn every diplomat on the ship. The first day back, he walked in at lunch and led a group of five off, presumably to a rec room, and returned them two minutes later. They looked like they'd just been kicked in the nuts.

He did that for the entire lunch hour, until he'd 'talked' with every one of them. When Jim had pulled him aside afterwards, asking him how he'd done it, Spock had shrugged innocently and said that he's 'simply described the appropriate methodology for talking with the Captain of a Starfleet flagship.'

That was five days ago, and it _still_ made Jim grin.

The four days after the Mess Hall Massacre (Spock didn't like the name, but Sulu had decided it would stick, so it had. Sulu was cool like that) weren't nearly as amazing; it was lots of negotiations with people who didn't know what they wanted.

Day five was filled with Jim on the Captain's Chair, yelling at the Tellaritian dockhands on the mainscreen, while Spock Looked Extremely Displeased in the background.

The Tellarites wanted to keep his crew. Badly. Scotty'd trained them well, and they were doing amazingly, and the dock wanted to keep them.

Jim was _not_ about to abandon his men on some random planet, and he was yelling this at Ambassador Thran (normally a great guy, but now, just, no) who wasn't looking particularly convinced. Spock was breaking in to make another great-point-that-would-be-ignored when Barnett came onto the deck for _no apparent reason_.

"Commander Spock, a word?"

"I need him right now, can it wait?" Kirk said over his shoulder.

Spock looked torn. "…Commodore Barnett, we are in the middle of negotiations with the Tellaritian dock, may I –,"

"They are attempting to steal away our best workers! Commodore Barnett, surely you do not –,"

"Shut up, Thran." Thran, Jim, Spock, and the entirety of the bridge crew gawped at the Commodore. "Commander, with me."

"I…I believe I am needed here until –,"

Barnett sighed. "Kirk, what do you need him for?"

Kirk decided to ignore the fact that Barnett addressed everyone by their title, except for him. "The dock's trying to keep my crew. I sent them down with the knowledge that they'd be returned to us before we left the dock."

"Do you _really_ need to leave now?"

"We have a contract of twenty days, _sir_, it ran out. I had_ assumed_ that you had already known, seeing as you signed the order."

Barnett made a show of rolling his eyes and turned to the furious ambassador on screen. "Thran, let them go."

"We are in need of them –,"

"If you need them so much you can reapply for their time. Let them go. The contract is done."

Thran looked ready to hit something. Jim sympathized completely. "…_Fine_. The crew shall be released."

Kirk nodded, "Good, send us some coordinates and we'll beam them right –,"

"No. The Commander and I will pick them up."

Spock blinked at Barnett. "Commodore, I –,"

"Is that acceptable, Thran?"

"_NO,_" Kirk protested, "it is _not_. I need him _here_, there is _work to be done_ –,"

The Ambassador ignored the absolutely incensed human. "That is acceptable, Commodore. We many have tasks where the Commander's help would be quite useful."

Kirk spluttered. "But I need him _here_, I've got a meeting with Topos in ten minutes –,"

Barnett was looking at him like he was a disobedient dog. "You can't talk to _Topos_ on your own?"

Spock jumped in quickly, "Commodore, I recognize that there are tasks to be completed inside the docks but Ambassador Topos has specifically requested a meeting with the two of us; can not the docks remain functional for an additional half hour?"

"Kirk, order your Engineer to prep the transporter room. The Commander and I are beaming down to the dock now."

Kirk heard his teeth squeal as he reached for the comm link on his armrest. "Scotty," he ground out.

"Aye, Cap'n?"

"Prepare to beam two down to the dock."

"Cap'n?"

"I'll explain later. _Now,_ Scotty."

"A'ight. As long as Ah ge' eno' time to get 'em both up before we unhook, tha' shoul'na be a prob'm."

"Thanks, Scotty." Kirk turned to Barnett and tried to see if one could kick another person in the groin with only a look.

Barnett nodded smugly. Damnit, didn't work. "With me, Commander."

Shit, this'd be so much easier if Spock didn't look so panicked. "Commodore, I must –,"

"_Now_, Commander, or that's insubordination."

Spock flinched and scuttled after Barnett, leaving Kirk alone, again. Thran watched them go with some compassion. "Your Commander is attempting loyalty. This is something, at the very least."

Jim smiled at him wanly. "'S just that if he fails, he takes me down with him."

.bdobd.

Jim was reduced to prowling ineffectually about the ship, fighting of a heavy cloud of impotency that seemed to follow him around like one of Archer's damned beagles.

His mood dissuaded all but T'Panya from coming near him. She glided in, happy as a clam, took one look at him staring about the rec room, and decided to not leave him be for the rest of the day.

"Captain, I had not realized you frequented this area."

She placed herself in a chair while (somehow) simultaneously making it known that she would not be moving for love or money. "Hi T'Panya."

"For this reason, I am interested in your current location."

Jim glared at her. It didn't work. "I'm looking for Spock, even though I know he's not here."

T'Panya raised an eyebrow. "That is an inefficient use of your time."

"I know that, thank you."

The woman blinked at him. He sighed. "Surely, you have something better to do than talk to me."

"Yes. I am to convince you to allow me to accompany you down to the dock."

Jim gave her A Look. "I haven't even decided to go down to the dock yet."

"It was only a matter of timing. You would surely have considered the idea within the hour. I am attempting to ensure that I shall be beaming down with you."

She did an odd Vulcan-beaming-smile. Jim blinked. "Um. I really don't think that that'd be a –,"

"Surely _I_ would pose no problems to your quest?"

"…I wouldn't call it a 'quest', per say."

"What term would you prefer?"

Jim looked at her carefully, taking in her consciously obstinate determination. He sighed. "Can you be ready in twenty minutes?"

She gave him a huge, weird, not-smile. "I can be ready in ten, sir." She flounced out of the room, pausing in the doorway. "…Thank you, Captain. You are kind to allow me this privilege." Then she continued merrily on her way.

Jim sighed again. _'These Vulcans are going to be the death of me…'_

He stood and stretched. Someday, someone would find a cure for loneliness that didn't involve other people. Until then, he was stuck wandering around a Tellaritian base with an oddly peppy reporter.

.bdobd.


	10. Realizations

A/N: A shortish chapter, but an important one. Lots of blinking and italics in here.

Again, big shout out to Product of a Sick Society, for making me give myself a deadline. Please find a way to thank her for her efforts in this almost ludicrously difficult field.

.bdobd.

Jim couldn't believe it. None of the Tellarites on the base knew where Spock was. It wasn't like the guy was easy to miss.

T'Panya'd stayed pretty quiet throughout the walk. He should've known it was too good to last.

They were in a hallway, making yet another trip from wing A to wing F (all the way across the base, wouldn't'cha know; Jim was beginning to suspect that Barnett had set this up) when T'Panya latched on to his arm.

Jim blinked at her.

She was still there.

It wasn't like she was leaning on him or anything… Maybe latched wasn't quite the word. It seemed less predetermined than that. It was more like to a kid grabbing an adult's hand when crossing the street.

"What is your definition of a good employee?" she asked.

Jim blinked again. Of all the things to ask…

It was probably best to go formal on her.

"Um. A good employee is someone who follows the orders of their superior officer to the best of their abilities. And informs their superior officer when and why they are unable to do so. Why?"

T'Panya seemed to consider this carefully. "Very well. I am an acceptable employee, then. I have followed Miss Nowmi's instructions."

She let go of his wrist and continued walking. Jim's mind buzzed quietly before he managed to get his feet to work. Then he had to jog to catch up; "Hey, you didn't answer my question. Why'd you want to know?"

She wasn't looking at him. "It is not of true import."

"_I_ think it's important. Come on, tell me!"

T'Panya stopped walking again. "What is your definition of a good citizen?"

"Erm…" Jim had a feeling that this answer mattered. "I guess… Someone who does what they believe is best for their country or planet. And who hurts as few people as they can in the process." He squinted at the wall she was staring at. It wasn't a particularly interesting one. "I think. I've never really been good at that."

"You serve your government. You are a good citizen."

"Well, I break a lot of laws in the process. That's not good." He peered at her profile. "Again, why do you need to know? Vulcan II's gotten along really well. It's building a lot faster than everyone thought was possible."

He could see her eyelashes moving slowly as she blinked. "…I realize this. But I am unsure as to how to proceed."

"In doing what?"

"How am I to serve a people that no longer exist?"

Jim reared back in surprise. "Don't exist? There aren't that many, but –,"

"No." She finally looked at him, determined, apparently, to make her point. "The Vulcans I knew and lived beside are dead. The homes that we existed in are destroyed. The schools that we longed to attend are destroyed. We have no more record of our central teachings beyond the Katric Ark and the High Council.

"The Council has admitted to being unsure as to how to rectify these issues. Three of whom used to serve on the Council are dead, so it can not be as it were. If the Council is not as it was, than the Vulcan government was not as it was.

"What have we got left? If it is only our memories, what good are they to do?"

Jim stared at her. "What brought _this_ on?"

She wrinkled her nose at him and turned back to the wall. "Vulcans are being called upon to leave the planet and serve elsewhere in the galaxy, so as to better spread our ideals.

"But our ideals never mentioned leaving the planet of Vulcan. Surak believed the highest honor came in serving ones own people."

Jim scratched at his head. "I don't really think you can blame Surak for failing to predict _Vulcan imploding_."

"I am in agreement. But what am I to do?" She was now clearly asking for advice. "My planet and people are dead. My leaders are not what they were. My philosophies are suddenly different from what they were. And now I am to serve on an alien world. What am I to do?"

He was _so _not ready for this. "…Could you go back to Vulcan? To serve there?"

T'Panya seemed to crumble. "I reapplied for residency. I was denied."

Oh, shit. He'd heard about that. There weren't enough houses on the colony to support all ten thousand survivors of the attack, so families with children were being prioritized over single applicants for homes.

"…Ah. Ok. That's another issue entirely." Gods, this was so _weird._ "Would 'do what feels right' be useful at all? That's what I usually do."

She coughed sarcastically at him. He hadn't even known you could _do_ that. "I was taught that such advice was irrational, and to be avoided."

"…Well, then I don't think I've go much for you. What do you want me to tell you?"

She reset her shoulders. "If I am not to serve on our colony then I am to serve in my position as Miss Nowmi's assistant."

"Oh, _no_. I… I don't really know what you do to _be_ a good assistant…" Jim squirmed. He felt so _impotent_. That was one of his leastfavorite vocabulary words.

"Neither do I." The shoulders fell again. "Such is the nature of my predicament. No one seems to know what I am to do, only that I am somehow doing it wrong.

"I have attempted to convince you to speak with Miss Nowmi, and I accomplished this, but in the process I somehow insulted the crew of the Enterprise. They will no longer talk to anyone not of Starfleet.

"Now I have been told to once again make you speak to Miss Nowmi, but not to allow any of the crew to gain insult from my actions."

She tucked her hands gently behind her back. "So now I have no one to serve on my planet, and the one I do serve finds me inadequate."

"A – Wait." Jim looked at her carefully. "You – Have you talked to the head of your family recently?" She sounded like Spock might if the man, you know, _talked_ to Jim. Maybe.

She blinked at him. "No. The head of my family perished in the destruction."

Smooth, Kirk, smooth. "Oh…I'm sorry." She started to interrupt him, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Has any one _told_ you, definitively, that you aren't doing a good job."

"…Yes." 

"Who?"

"Well, if I was doing adequately, surely I would not be this miserable."

Jim gaped at her.

She blinked some more at him.

"… Um. T'Panya?"

"Yes?"

"First of all, no one told you you weren't being a good employee. Secondly, you…You know about survivor's guilt, right? And depression?" 

"Affirmative."

"So… You _don't_ think that that's why you're… 'miserable'."

"Yes."

"…Any particular reason why?"

She seemed offended. "Vulcans are not stricken by such emotional issues."

"…Okay, but you_ just_ admitted to being miserable. That was _your_ word. 'Miserable'. If Vulcans can be saddened to the point of imagining criticism," she opened her mouth to protest, but waved it down, "no, hear me out, if you can be that depressed, why can't you have survivor's guilt?"

"Because that does not happen."

Good _lord _she was stubborn. "…"

"It does _not_." She seemed to think that she'd be able to convince him, if she just pushed hard enough. "Truly. Why would a Vulcan feel such things? It does not occur."

"…T'Panya, there's a name for it and everything. You can look it up on the internet. And in journals and encyclopedias and stuff. Clearly, it _does_ occur."

She nodded slowly, like he was being _exceptionally _thick. "Yes. _To other people_. Not to us."

Jim crossed his arms. "Not to you, you mean."

"Well, I am included in 'us' by association, yes."

He stared at the ceiling for a while. "…So you agree that it exists, and that it affects other species, and that is a well-documented result of extreme trauma. Right? Are we on the same page?"

"…Affirmative…"

"So _why_, definitively, can it _not_, absolutely, never-in-a-million-years, happen to you. To _one _Vulcan. What makes _you_, personally, immune to this thing."

Okay, she was definitely annoyed now. "Such simply does not effect our species –,"

"_Why?_ It can't be because you don't feel emotion, you_ do_, you just _told me that yourself_. You're miserable. You admit that. Another definition of misery is _depression_. Why are _you_ so different?"

She was holding herself like her back was made of steel. "Guilt and depression do not affect Vulcans the same way they do humans."

"Clearly."

T'Panya relaxed slightly. "So we are in –,"

"If it affected you the same way, we would've been having this conversation _weeks_ ago. It all got delayed a couple months."

She narrowed her eyes. "You are not listening to me."

"I'm _listening_ to you. I'm just not _agreeing _with you. They don't necessarily go hand in hand." He planted his feet. "Now, one more time: why are you immune. Why does something that affects _everyone_ else in the galaxy not affect _you_."

"The universe does not _work _that way!" She had finally exploded, "Such does not _happen_ as it does to others! That is why we are _unique_. We are _different_; we are not copies of every one else; we are not _flawed_ as you are. We are _different._"

"How?"

T'Panya spluttered and drew herself up to her full height: just a _titch_ shorter than Jim, but imposing as all hell. "We are _Vulcan_. It is part of our identities as people."

And here's where Jim got himself strangled: "Fine. But the planet was also part of your identity." She flinched. "And that sure as hell changed. Why's your susceptibility to depression different? Both your planet and your pride _looked_ immortal. One clearly wasn't."

He stepped forward, right up to her nose. "So, one more time: what makes you so god damned special?"

T'Panya opened and closed her mouth soundlessly for a while. Jim braced for impact. _Damn_ this was gonna hurt…

She burst into tears.

Jim gaped, totally stunned. Holy _shit_. _That_ didn't go as planned.

T'Panya wailed almost _quietly_, if that made _any_ sense: huge shuddering breaths drawn between almost dainty sobs.

"Oh, fuck it all," he muttered, and drew her into a hug. Enough crazy shit had happened today that proportionally, this wouldn't be that bad.

She kept sobbing, but – hold on, his shirt wasn't getting wet. Jim pulled back a bit, and saw that she wasn't actually crying _tears_; her face was totally dry.

Well, Vulcans _were_ desert creatures; made sense that they wouldn't want to waste valuable water on something like crying.

Jim sighed and held her closer. At least he wasn't getting thrashed.

Then again, this was damned awkward. What did one do when one _broke_ a Vulcan? The things weren't supposed to be _fragile_.

Course, it'd been almost a year now. If she'd lasted this long without mourning…

_Fuck_, when was the reunion?

Jim did a bit of mental math: September… it was August… so, _shit_, that was in, like, three weeks. Damn it all.

T'Panya kept right on going. He sighed and rubbed her back a bit. It'd be easier, almost, if she were actually _crying_: here, he was just kinda standing here as a witness.

How long'd it been since she started this?

Immediately, he felt bad for thinking that. Her _planet_ had _imploded_: of _course_ she was going to go on for a little while.

Jim looked down at her uncomfortably. "Look, T'Panya…I'm happy to do what you need me to, but is there something…I dunno, more _useful_ that I can do for you?"

She quieted a bit and spoke through a very runny nose. "I do not know. I am so lost."

"…About that. So, do you know what you're looking for? That can help."

"Negative."

"Alright! Than we'll look for that."

She looked at him like _he_ was the weird one. "Goals are important. Mission statements even more so," he stated.

T'Panya raised an eyebrow and burrowed back into his shoulder. "Do you know what you want?" he asked.

"Negative."

Damn it all. "Nothing? Nothing at all?" 

She blushed olive.

Jim froze and quickly reviewed everything she'd said in the past few days. His eyes widened and he turned what must have been a Fascinating With a Capitol 'F' shade of red, because all of a sudden T'Panya's eyes were like _right there_.

"Humans have iron based blood."

Jim blinked at her. This would be _so_ much easier if she wasn't crushing on him. "…Yeah?"

"It is an illogically attractive feature on you. On others," she gave a gaelic shrug, "such is not the case."

Jim gaped at her.

Christ, her ears would be permanently green by the end of the conversation. "…Thank you. That's kind of you to say. And you _aren't _allowed to tell me that the thanks are unnecessary."

She purred and ducked her head under his chin.

It took Jim a couple moments to find two brain cells to rub together. She was a _Vulcan_, and she was, like, _purring_ and –

Jim leapt backwards. "Okay, new rule: NO SNUGGLING."

T'Panya looked like she'd just been slapped.

He groaned. He just couldn't win.

Jim sighed and stomped petulantly back over, hugging her softly. "…At least, not without some warning. It's not nice to sneak up on someone like that."

…

How was it possible to look _that happy _without smiling? That should be against _some_ law of physics. Jim made a mental note to tell Chekov to invent that law when he got back to the ship.

"…_Ow_, T'Panya, not that tight, you're gonna break my hand."

T'Panya loosened her grip on his hand – when had that _happened_, anyway? – and started that purring thing again.

Jim sighed and pulled her closer. He'd let her down later. It'd just be cruel to hurt her more now.

He kept himself busy by looking at her ears. Not as nice as Spock's, of course, but –

Jim kept very, very still, took out his handy mental stick, and prodded that last thought again. The damned thing didn't go away. Fuck. It must actually be his.

Poke poke. How long had that thing _been _there, anyway? When had he noticed Spock's _ears_, of all things?

Jim was having himself a quiet little freakout – one that T'Panya seemed totally oblivious to (Jim beat the thought 'Spock would've noticed' with his mental stick, and was able to wrestle it into a kind of sulky submission) – when Spock rounded the corner.

Jim froze, Spock froze. T'Panya seemed smug.

Spock turned on his heel and walked away.

Jim opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out.

T'Panya went back to purring.

The universe hated him. It was official.

.bdobd.

Admiral Barnett had drawn Spock away from the Captain for little easily discernable reason. There were few tasks to complete on the base, and the crewmen were all ready to beam back aboard the ship.

The Admiral's true intent had appeared to be to drag Spock into the closest available nook and interrogate him about the Captain's command of the Enterprise.

Perhaps it was the Captain's previous concerns about the Admiral's intentions towards the Enterprise, but something in the wording of the Admiral's queries had seemed…odd. The Admiral appeared much too _intent_ about the topic.

After managing to detach himself from the strangely focused Admiral, Spock set about finding the Captain to analyze the conversation.

Spock found Jim in a secluded hallway, holding T'Panya and kissing her quite lewdly with his right hand.

This was very disturbing, so Spock exited the area immediately.

No. Such was an inaccurate remembrance of events.

The actions the Captain was partaking in were not _in and of themselves_ unusual. While Spock had never actually seen Kirk engage in blatant flirting – excepting, of course, Jim's subtle overtures towards Spock on the bridge – but he had heard of Jim's numerous conquests at the Academy.

No, what was more unsettling was that the first thought that Spock had upon seeing Jim entwined with T'Panya was, 'Wait. You are showing affection towards the wrong Vulcan. **_I_** am over **_here_**_._'

At this point, Spock's brain came to a screeching halt, but not before crashing into his inborn notions of both the importance of both the military command unit and society's norms, and after seriously denting the rear bumper of his logical ideals.

What was he to do?

.bdobd.

It was really, really hard to apologize to a guy you just figured out you might (maybe) like when said person had locked himself in his quarters.

Again.

He'd been doing that a lot, lately.

Jim blinked threateningly down at the door's chipper little lock, but it didn't open. He could, in theory, use the Captain's Override, but that would be so categorically dickish as to be seen as a totally stupid move even by his admittedly low standards.

So here he was, staring at the lock.

Fuck, what if it _did_ open? What would he say? 'I'm sorry that I…' What? He had no _fucking_ clue what he'd done to set Spock off. He knew _he _felt stupid for being seen snuggling with another Vulcan approximately _five seconds_ after coming to the realization that he was obsessed with his First.

Damn it, you didn't even _need_ the entire first half of the sentence. '[C]oming to the realization that he was obsessed with his First' was already _pretty fucking bad._

But what to say to Spock? 'I'm sorry if I disturbed you? I'm _really_ sorry if I'm projecting my totally embarrassing feelings onto your actions?'

'I'm sorry, please don't hate me, come back to work? Please? Because I _cannot do this alone_ and you're actually kind of attractive, maybe?'

What about, 'I'm sorry, I'm not a stalker, I swear?' It was more fucking efficient; that was for damn sure.

And, the door opened. Of course it did. Because the universe hates James T. Kirk, had we not already discussed this?

Spock didn't look much happier to see Jim than Jim did to talk with Spock.

They just sort of stood there for a while until Spock motioned that he wanted to get into the hallway. Jim stiffened and did a kind of fluttery apologetic hand dance while skittering quickly to the left.

Spock blinked at him, inclined his head, and walked down the hall. He got into a lift and left.

Jim stared after him.

He was then hit by a wave of almost paralyzing self-hatred. '_What_ the _fuck_ was _that?_ Really? You just fucking _stood _there for twenty minutes? How stupid –?'

Jim ran to see if Bones had any of that brandy left. Maybe if he drank enough he could _drown_ his _brain._

.bdobd.


	11. The Elephant in the Room

A/N: Sorry about the lag: I started a new fic (I know, I know, I'm bad) called Improbability. It's a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy crossover: K/S (shocking I know), android!Spock, and multi chapter. It's doing pretty well, and it's a lot of fun to write. Check it out if you can.

Twelve cm is a bit less than five inches. I can only envision a future that uses the metric system, but I'm American, so I'm not used to it at all.

Oi. Do you know how _few_ synonyms for 'pillow' there are? There's 'cushion' and 'bolster'. And bolster so totally does _not_ count.

.bdobd.

Jim would've loved to have the luxury to sit about thinking deep thoughts on how to make Spock not be so… what-he-currently-was. Unfortunately, the universe hated him, and it decided that _now_ would be a _fantastic_ time to have the engines fail.

Scotty discovered the broken part at 1512 hours, Sulu (acting captain, Jim's awoken to the dreaded Hangover of Utter Destruction) had announced the *minor* engine issues at 1545 hours (and the fact that to get a replacement, they'd have to go to Earth), and the _entire_ _ship_ fucking _EXPLODED. Right then._

The hallway outside his quarters went from 'about empty-ish' to 'sardine' in five minutes flat. He'd answered the frantic requests to enter without a shirt on (sort of hoping it'd be Spock, and not wanting to admit that to himself).

He'd seen the crowd of diplomats and Nowmi's team, and they all saw him.

And it was quiet on Deck E, for just a few moments.

And then it got _really really loud_. Jim honestly considered undoing his pants, just to shock them into shut them up, but, wait, no, StevensAndCamera were here, and he'd be in deep shit if a picture of him _stripping_ got back to Barnett.

Jim grabbed the nearest overly-large stack of PADDs that someone was waving in his face, threw them to the floor with a _c-rattle_, and stood on top of them. It made him just taller enough for most of the people in his hallway to _shut up_, just a little bit.

"QUIET!"

That closed most of the mouths. Nowmi was ducking through the crowd to get a mic pickup near him; he thought about waving it down, but he doubted it'd make much difference in the end.

"Right! There was an announcement made! You have all heard the announcement! I am not going to tell you ANY MORE than the announcement did! If you've come looking for more information about the announcement, then you should leave now!"

He'd sort of hoped that Nowmi and Crew would leave at that, but they didn't. Ah well. The majority of the diplomats were grumbling caustically.

"Now! If anybody has a question relating to something OTHER THAN THE ANNOUNCEMENT, I will hear it now."

Ambassador Topos raised a hand. "Yessir?"

"I think (but I'm not quite sure of this) that the flight back to Earth for the replacement part will take us close to Orion space. I'm the ambassador; I think I'm going to be called down there when we fly by. Can I get a meeting with you and your first officer before that?"

"I'm not sure." Kirk craned his head slightly to look over at Spock's door across that hall, which had very definitively Not Been Opened. "I'll certainly try to."

Topos ground his teeth. "Captain, I've been waiting for over three weeks now. _Surely_ if Commander Spock was _that sick_, we would have been diverted to a Starbase for advanced treatment."

Kirk gave him a Captain's Stare. It was one of his better. "Look, we're all busy trying to get everyone the time they need. We're the only people who can broadcast anything to anyone and the Council is still technically in session and I've got a full political news show here and every bigwig in the Alpha Quadrant; I'm _sorry_ we're so swamped; _trust _me, _I don't like it either_; we're doing the best we can!

"I will _try_ to get that meeting with you, but I can't promise it because I'm the captain of the flagship that's carrying four hundred very important people and flying in between two major planets; we are in a _universe _with _other people_ in it. If you – or anyone else," he amended, looking out to the other meekened aggressors, " – don't like that reality, then go live on a moon. See if I care. But right now, you're here, and we have to get along.

"Now, we're going to Earth to get the part we need. If you need to be dropped off, like Ambassador Topos here, tell me now so that we can plan the beaming coordinates now." He sighed. "If you _need_ – absolutely, totally, can not live without – a meeting with Spock and me, than sign up for one on the list that you were given by Lieutenant Uhura."

They all blinked petulantly at him. Kirk sighed again. "Anyone else need anything?"

.bdobd.

Jim watched Nowmi's show for the first time since he'd crashed into the rec room a small eternity ago.

It wasn't that bad. It really wasn't. She was smart, clearly. She was funny. She was a damn good interviewer.

But he just couldn't separate her from all of the sneak attacks in hallways, and sending T'Panya after him, and coming through an angry crowd with a microphone just to record the anger and emotion.

She played the clip of him yelling at the crowd in his hall; that wasn't much fun. He'd always tried to avoid authority figures as much as possible, yet there he was: orating to a crowd of fifty, trying to convince him of _his_ opinion and _his_ ideals and _his_ point of view and that _they _were wrong and _he_ was right.

But he looked like he was going to snap, too. There he was, yelling at men three to seven times his age, and it was like he was going to burst into tears at some moment.

Jim threw up and managed to get to the bathroom in time. He was still going over there on the screen, and now that he was listening to it again he couldn't help but find errors riddled all through it. He'd said _that?_ Why had he said _that?_ What was _wrong_ with him?

Nowmi started in on her commentary. Jim braced himself, counting the squares in the bathroom's faux tile floor.

"The Enterprise has been carrying the Council and most of the ambassadors from the entire Alpha Quadrant around for almost a month now. It's at 150% capacity. I'm sharing a room with my assistant, but my cameraman's bunking with some of the Security team and they're packed _four_ to a room. Each ambassador gets his own quarters. Every Councilperson gets their own room.

"Captain Kirk and Commander Spock have met with three hundred and fifty-two people in twenty eight days. That's almost thirteen people a _day_. The Captain has a responsibility to meet with everyone he can, yes. And he's doing that.

"But this one announcement – this one, little, 'we'll be taking a detour don't worry' message – sent a group of fifty people to bang on his door until he came out, in civilian clothes, to calm down an angry mob."

"We are in a _universe _with _other people_ in it," Jim yelled from the screen. "If you – or anyone else – don't like that reality, then go live on a moon. See if I care. But right now, you're here, and we have to get along."

Jim-in-the-bathroom tapped his head softly against the cabinets under his sink. Pike was gonna kill him. Nowmi starting talking again: "Right now, Earth has only the most basic of communications capabilities. Tellar and Andoria were both dragged into this; they're facilities are all down. The only place that can broadcast is the Enterprise.

"The captain of the Enterprise is James T. Kirk. A great man, to be sure, and an excellent captain, but not one with the time, skills, or resources needed to make this thing work right. Nobody really does, at this point. The idea that yelling louder at a man who has already admitted to having played his last card is ludicrous and infantile. It doesn't help anyone. Not the Captain, not the dignitaries, not the Federation.

"We've got to stick together, here. If we fall apart because of a _systems failure_, then we will never be able to look each other in the eyes again. We _need_ to get through this. We live in a universe with other people in it. If that is just too much to bear, than you should go live on a moon."

Jim heard Nowmi rustling through her notes. She sighed. "Thank you for watching. Any hate mail you want to send me for doing my job goes, as always, to my account at the IPFPNN's account, subcode 72-8.12. We'll be back on Monday to cover all of the latest Federation news. Have a good weekend."

The plummy voice of the next commentator came over the holoscreen. "Orion hackers coming back into power? We're investigating, next, on Today's Topics."

"Computer, turn off holoscreen."

The machine shut itself off with a soft clicking noise. Jim stood heavily, wincing at the taste in his mouth. He reached for a toothpaste tablet and chewed it slowly, feeling the chemicals begin to scrub at the inside of his teeth.

Well. So, now the world knew about the Enterprise's issues. Goody. His mom and the Admirals were already on board, so they'd probably come around in about a half hour. The bridge crew might swing by to commiserate… No, probably not till Alpha shift.

Spock wouldn't come.

Jim spit out the pulped remains of the capsule and let that fact sink in for a while. Spock would not come. He'd been inside his quarters the entire time Jim had been arguing with the mob, and he hadn't even reacted. That door had never opened.

Pike would probably go to Spock first, also. Jim grabbed a glass and rinsed out his mouth. Pike didn't really like talking to Kirk while he was still pissed; he'd probably go complain to the calm little Vulcan first.

Jim slammed the glass down with more force than may have been technically necessary and stalked into his bedroom. So Pike would talk to Spock, Jim planned as he flopped onto the bed, and then Pike would come to Kirk with a conglomerate angryPike/exasperatedSpock argument tailor made to make Jim feel like a complete idiot.

And Jim would wait here until Pike came. Would just, hang about in his quarters like a good little officer and wait to be disciplined.

_Fuck_ that.

Jim shot off the bed, changed uniform shirts, and went to go find Spock Prime. Prime was usually happy to see him.

.bdobd.

Prime was… sort of happy. Kinda. He looked a bit too sleepy to really be called 'chipper'. But he definitely brightened when he saw Jim standing awkwardly outside of the quarters he shared with Sarek.

"James. I had not expected to see you."

Jim rubbed at the back of his neck, suddenly very guilty that he hadn't come to visit before this. "Yeah, I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come down… I really didn't mean to leave you hanging."

Prime did one of those little eye-smiles that were so nice. "I am not currently suspended from any –,"

Jim grinned at him. "Oh, you know what I mean." He scuffed a shoe against the floor – which was actually pretty difficult; the floors were pretty frictionless. "Can I come in? I had a horrible day."

Prime looked surprised, and then so _pleased_ that Jim had to resist the sincere urge to smother him. "You are always welcome, James." He stepped aside to let Jim into the room.

Sarek wasn't there. "Hey, I thought you were sharing with Sarek? Did you guys split?"

Prime shook his head no and closed the door, gesturing over to a door set in a side wall. "We had a temporary wall erected. As we prefer our quarters to be very different temperatures, it was for the better."

Temporary walls were _exactly_ what they sounded like: collapsible, ceiling-high room dividers that could be carried into a room, unfolded, and snapped into place. Jim looked about the room. "Yeah, I noticed that. You haven't set it at 'Sauna in June'."

Prime did that endearing little un-smile thing again. "Indeed. I grew used to a cooler climate during my time in Starfleet. I have found it… difficult to adjust to the environment most commonly associated with Vulcan."

Jim flinched in sympathy. "I can only _imagine_ how well Sarek took _that_ news."

"… Would you like some tea?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yeah, sure." Jim peered around himself. "Is there… could I sit –?"

"There are cushions in the closet," Prime responded, gesturing casually to the alcove off to the right. Jim told the panel to rotate, and it spun to reveal a neat set of stacks of pillows.

Which were all in varying shades of oh-my-god-so-freaking-adorkable _elephant print_.

Jim nearly died from repressing urge to squee. Instead, he was a good little guest and got out two of the (_elephants!_) pillows, one bright blueish green and the other a vibrant red.

He flumped onto the red one and went about cheerfully counting the Proboscideans on Prime's pillow. Prime turned from the replicator unit with two cups of tea, saw Jim, and started working to restrain a smile. Jim beamed up at him.

"_Proboscidea Elephantidae._"

Prime nodded and settled down on his cushion. "_Elephantidae Loxodonta_, to be most specific. Lieutenant Uhura sent me then from the United Africas three point seven two months ago."

Prime sipped his tea, and Jim shlurped his. It tasted better that way. "I didn't know Uhura had a thing for elephants."

"She does not, to my knowledge. Somehow, she was put under the impressing that I enjoyed artistic representations of such creatures."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "She thought you liked _elephant pictures?_"

Prime shrugged, and Jim nearly did a spit take. Knowing Prime, that'd probably been his intention. "I do not have a preference either way. I would rather the credits be spent on an article that made her happy."

Jim recovered quickly and smiled. "She was probably happy when she bought those for you. She's cool like that."

"Indeed. She is and always has been exceedingly generous."

The blonde hummed happily and nodded. "So, how've you been? You've got these epic pillows; have you been able to impress any Councilpeople with them?"

Prime gave him a wry look. "The majority of the Federation Council is not particularly receptive to theories postulated upon elephant patterned cushions."

"_What?_" Jim gave him his best Affronted look. "That's awful! Who doesn't like elephants?"

Prime was un-smiling again. "I doubt they have any particular prejudice surrounding Proboscideans. I believe it is better attributed to their ignorance of the superiority of brightly patterned pillows."

Jim ran that through his Spock Translator and laughed. "'They're just not as cool as us,' you mean?"

"I believe that is what I said, yes."

Jim beamed and settled himself more comfortably on the pillow. "What kind of tea is this? It's good."

"It is Vulcan Spice Tea."

"Really?" Jim looked incredulously at Prime over the rim of his mug. The last time he'd tried Vulcan Spice he'd had to think fast to find a synonym for 'it tastes like dust' that wasn't too offensive.

"Heretical amounts of sugar have been added."

"Ah." Jim slurped. "That explains it, yeah."

Prime looked at him like he was the best thing in, basically, ever, and Jim blushed and went to change the subject. "So, no epic pillow lovin'. What about negotiations in general? Has the Andorian delegation been annoying?"

"Negative." Prime relaxed softly. "All has been going rather well, in fact. I realize that, for you, this has been extraordinarily stressful, but it has been of great assistance in strengthening Vulcan's diplomatic ties to other planets."

"Huh. Well, I guess when you lock everyone in the same room, eventually you all start talking."

Prime nodded. "Indeed. Or, the leader of the entire enterprise is discredited for being the owner of the door and lock."

Jim winced and stared at his tea. "Did you see Nowmi's coverage?"

"Affirmative. There have also been some murmurings of discontent among the Orion and Bolian delegates, but Sarek and I have attempted to calm the majority of them." Prime bowed his head. "I am sorry I was not more successful. You did not deserve the reaction you received from the ambassadors."

Kirk went beet red. "No, Prime, no it's not _your_ fault. I _know_ you have a guilt complex, but come on, surely this doesn't _all_ fall on you."

Prime raised The Eyebrow. "Indeed."

Erk. That was not a Happy Voice. "A lot of this is just a ton of dominant people being put in a small space and being told to behave. It isn't any _one person's_ fault."

"I know this." Prime did an eye-smile.

"Wha –?" Jim paused before spluttering. "I'm the captain! I _have_ to be responsible for _some_ of it, at least; I mean, it's –,"

"Not your fault."

"Well, I it's got to be –,"

"This is _not_ your fault."

Jim curled into himself and stared at his mug. "Yes it is. I'm the captain; I should know how to fix this."

"James." Jim peered up at the older man, who was looking at him with blatant sympathy and affection. "You are indeed the captain. But you are also one person who has been ordered to direct a ship filled with all of your superiors. There is no way for anyone to fulfill such orders without offending a single person. It is simply impossible.

"You have done an extraordinary job thus far. You managed to assign the correct people to the correct posts, and they have preformed exceedingly well. There have been no food or facility shortages. We are all clothed and clean and fed. The ship is reasonably calm and organized, accounting for the addition of four-hundred generally argumentive people.

"The very fact that only fifty people were vocally disturbed at the idea of the ship totally changing course without prior warning is proof that the majority of the population has been kept calm and content. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Jim blinked at Prime for a while.

Then he drew the older man into a loose hug, which was awkwardly returned, as they were still both holding mugs of scalding liquid. Prime put his cup down and tucked Jim into his side. The blonde collapsed quietly and turned into the warm ribs next to his ear.

"Th'nks. I need'd that."

Prime started carding through Jim's hair. "I am always here for you if you have need of me. It may do you well to remember this."

Jim grinned into Prime's torso. "'Preciate it."

Prim kept on petting his hair. "I know."

.bdobd.

Spock had been looking for his Captain for sixty-three point four seven minutes when he finally saw Kirk walking in the deck given over to the ambassador's.

Of course. Jim was _always_ in the _last_ place Spock expected him to be.

Spock tried to repress the irritation he felt at this, but was not very successful. He felt he had cause: He had come from a meeting with the Admiralty, who had gathered in his quarters to ask him why he was not able to 'keep your Captain in line'.

Admirals Pike, R'Vish, and Archer had attempted to bring _some_ reason into the discussion, but had been largely unsuccessful. Commodore Barnett and Admiral Hivash had been especially infuriated.

And when they had requested the location of the Captain, Spock had told them that the Captain was most probably in his quarters.

The Captain was _not_ in his quarters.

Because that would be so _easy_.

Quashing that illogical thought, Spock sped towards the Captain before the blonde managed to disappear once more.

"Captain Kirk." where have you been, and why do you seem to distrust me so readily?

Kirk turned around and stopped short. "Spock? What the hell happened to you?"

Spock halted twelve centimeters from his superior officer. "I have been attempting to locate you for over an hour now, sir. The Admiralty wishes to speak with you." now.

Kirk didn't say anything, apparently waiting for Spock to reveal some other information. "… And?"

Spock blinked sharply. "Excuse me, sir?"

Kirk shrugged. "The Admirals know where I'll be tomorrow. They can find me then. I don't want to talk to them."

Spock felt his mouth open a bit in shock. "I… _sir_… That is…"

"They don't need to talk to me right now. They need to do damage control with Nowmi. They just want to fulfill their emotional need to chew me out." The blonde shrugged again. "I'm just doing what's best for _them_."

Spock was… stunned, yes, that was the word. He was totally, completely, utterly stunned. "… I… While that is an honorable goal, I doubt it is the original reason you avoided their precence."

"So?"

"… That is untruthful." and you do not lie.

"And?"

"… You… should not do that, sir." for you are above it.

"Why?"

"It… sets a bad example for the crew, sir." and you lower yourself. You are better.

The Captain crossed his arms, settling into his well-known battle stance. "Are you going to _tell_ the crew?"

Spock shifted nervously. "… Negative. No positive effects would result from such actions." and you would be harmed.

"Do you think _I'm_ going to tell the crew?"

"… That would be highly unlikely, sir." for you are no fool.

"So, really, the only people I'm setting a bad example for are me and you."

"… It is difficult to set an example for yourself, Captain."

"So I'm just setting it for you, then."

"Yes," Spock said with a nod. He had the feeling he was missing some important information.

"Well, are you going to _follow_ my horrible example and start lying to your superior officer?"

"_No,_ Captain." This last was said with more force than was strictly necessary.

"So, what's the issue?"

"I…" Spock was so confused. "I no longer know, Captain. I apologize for my arrogance."

Kirk's eyes widened. "Wait, Spock, don't start blaming yourself. I'm arguing against your _orders_, not _you._"

"Well, what an I to tell the Admirals when they request a report of our conversation?"

"Just tell them I stonewalled you and you couldn't get anything out of me. They'll accept that."

Spock blinked in incomprehension. "'Stonewalled'? What does that phrase mean? Is not a stone wall a noun?" It was like saying a person 'shoed' you, or 'computered' you an item.

Kirk sighed. Spock had apparently managed to irritate him again. "I obstructed you. I was an obstruction in the pursuit of knowledge. And I made it so that you could not obtain any salient facts."

"I understand." Spock considered this quietly for a moment. "Captain?" why are you not distressed? I had expected to find it necessary to calm you.

"Mm?"

"What are you doing in the ambassadorial decks?" without me? Why did you not come?

Kirk's lips quirked, and Spock took a moment to remind himself that distractions were not to be tolerated while on duty. Especially ones caused by a superior officer. "I was visiting Prime."

Spock had been distracted and surely had misunderstood Jim's sentence. "Who were you visiting?"

"Prime. You know," Jim fluttered his hands to (presumably) indicate the cosmos, "old you, Prime universe you, Junior Vulcan Ambassador you. That dude."

Spock blinked for a moment. "What were you doing with _him?_" while I worked to protect you from the anger of others.

Jim became offended. "I was _visiting_. You know. What you do with people you like."

"Why did you not come to me?" for I surely would have welcomed your presence during the Admirals' arguments.

"You weren't there for me."

Spock stopped breathing. "What?"

Jim, on the other hand, took a deep breath. "I knew you were either already with the Admirals or you were meeting up with them to talk about how I'd gone wrong." The human's gaze turned defiant. "I decided I wasn't going to just wait for you to come and lecture me, so I went where I knew I'd be welcomed."

Spock felt ill. "Jim…"

"Don't you 'Jim' me." Kirk pivoted on his heel, heading for the turbolift. "I'm going to bed. See you later, Spock."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the turbolift's doors closed before he could form any words. Jim had not wanted an answer, after all.

.bdobd.


	12. Intrusions

A/N: Blargh. Every year, I overeat on Independence Day, and every year, I promise I'll never do something that stupid to myself again.

The ta'al is the Vulcan hand sign.

Bolarus IX is the Bolian homeworld, and is where the Bank of Bolias (huge bank used by the majority of Federation peoples) is located.

.bdobd.

Spock did not retreat to his quarters to evaluate his response to the Captain's accusations. He did, however, absent himself from the Bridge. He found it difficult to concentrate there; he had been tempted, several times, to falsify a need for the Captain and him to leave the Bridge, so that he could explain to the Captain what he had been doing with the Admirals.

Such was not productive. He resisted the impulse.

He worked with Security and Communications instead, assisting in the logistics of returning to Earth before the engines were rendered incapable of operation, while also convincing as many dignitaries as possible to leave the ship.

Said dignitaries were told that it was to decrease the load the ship was carrying. Such was not totally accurate. The ship was so large that the weight of four hundred humanoids was proportionally negligible: the dilithium stores were thrice the mass. In actuality, the politicians were to exit the premises in the interest of preserving the delicate veil of sanity that the crew had been able to cultivate while the cameras were on board.

Ambassador Topos was the first to be beamed off of the ship: the Orion government had in fact requested his presence. Regrettably, the Captain had not been able to find the time in his schedule to meet with the Ambassador.

For the entirety of the three days after the Prime Incident (as Spock had taken to referring it), the Captain had either been busy arranging for the maintenance personnel of Earth to be ready as soon as the Enterprise touched down, or had been deep in the belly of the Enterprise, working with Engineer Scott to keep her engines going for as long as possible.

The Captain's knowledge of his ship was very commendable; the majority of the Councilpeople seemed pleasantly surprised by the Captain's dedication to the mission. Spock's father had 'pulled him aside' (human phrase) in the mess hall just the previous day to give his Captain praise at the man's success in convincing the Bolian delegation of Starfleet's dedication to all species.

Spock had found it difficult to contain his surprise at the news that the Bolian delegation had been dissatisfied. He had actually visited the Captain's quarters that night to ask the Captain about the issue.

Prime had already informed the Captain of the Bolian's opinion towards Starfleet.

The Captain had not seen fit to tell him.

It took an additional hour of meditation, added to his already three hour long ritual, to calm himself fully after the Captain's explanation.

Today, as a result, he found himself to be in optimal condition. Spock was in the process of considering the addition of another half hour to his regular meditation time when T'Panya began to walk with him.

Spock found his earlier contentment faltering. T'Panya's actions had been difficult to predict from her arrival aboard the Enterprise. The day after she boarded, she had sought him out for his opinions on various topics.

T'Panya apparently considered the Enterprise as a sort of reward for the expenditure of effort. She had been displeased by Ms. Nowmi's insistence on coming onto the ship not because of the stress it would inflict upon the crew, but because Nowmi had not 'earned' it.

Spock had found the view unusual, and had attempted to convince T'Panya to illuminate on her opinion. She, finding his opinion to be different than his, had changed the subject to that of his Captain.

Spock had told her the truth: that his Captain was the best of Starfleet, that it was an honor to serve under him, and that the Captain had great respect for all cultures.

She had not been satisfied with these answers, either, and had left to 'contemplate' his responses.

Ms. Nowmi's show had aired approximately three hours later, which was when the news of the typing error that had led to the communications breakdown was revealed.

The two had not spoken since.

"I am in need of advice," T'Panya began. Spock took stock of their surroundings: the hall they were currently perusing was empty and quiet, with few security cameras. He stopped walking, and she mirrored his actions.

"On what topic is your inquiry addressed to?"

"Captain James."

Spock felt his eyes widen slightly. He aborted the movement. "Captain James _Tiberius Kirk_, you mean?"

T'Panya… 'shook herself', that was the Terran phrase. "Affirmative, Captain Kirk. I had a discussion with the Captain two days ago, and am in need of some translation of Terran subliminal messages."

Spock assumed parade rest. "What was the topic of your discussion?"

T'Panya also straightened her shoulders and back. "I told him that I was attracted to him in a physical and mental manner."

Spock's eyes widened again, and he allowed them to do as they pleased. "You _what?_"

The woman seemed taken aback. "I told him that I was attracted to him. I am uncertain to the full meaning of his response. I assumed that as you work the closest with him, you would know what he meant."

Spock was finding it difficult to keep his tone within its normal range. "I… have never had a conversation relating to that particular topic, no."

"I assumed as such, as you are in a relationship with the Lieutenant Uhura. But you still know much of his preferred manner of speaking, yes?"

Spock decided to not inquire as to where T'Panya got the idea that he and Lieutenant Uhura were still in a romantic engagement: they had separated months ago. "Is not your _job_ in _Communications?_ Perhaps such decoding would be good practice for your work."

"I have spent the past two days examining the Captain's remarks; I wish to test my hypothesis against yours." T'Panya seemed insulted by the implication that she was not, perhaps, very good at her job.

Spock did _not_ want to help T'Panya decipher Kirk's response. He did not wish to hear what Jim sounded like when he was accepting the favors of another.

Spock stiffened and reevaluated his previous thoughts. The favors of another? As opposed to, maybe, his own?

He began plotting his escape from T'Panya; four hours of meditation was _clearly_ not enough_._

"I am extremely busy right now; if you might come to my quarters –,"

"'Look, T'Panya,'" T'Panya began, mimicking the Captain's tone almost perfectly, "'I just don't think that it'd be a good idea to start something like that right now. You're a great person, and you deserve a great partner. I just don't think that I'm that guy. I'd be up here, and you wouldn't, and long-distance relationships really don't work with humans. Trust me.'"

Spock blinked at her quietly. That… was not an acceptance speech. In the slightest.

"He then managed to herd me out of the door, bowed, and I was called to Miss Nowmi's quarters for consultation for the show." T'Panya seemed contemplative. "I realize that the Captain did not accept my offer, but I am uncertain of what he said specifically. For example, he stated that I 'deserve a great partner', but then said that he was not such a person. I do not believe that –,"

"The Captain has almost no concept of how he is seen by other people." Spock's voice was oddly strangled. "He is humble. He pretends to be arrogant, but he is not."

She blinked. "That is illogical."

Spock nodded, still stunned. "Indeed."

The two of them stood there for one point four three minutes, quiet, contemplative. T'Panya bowed. "I am most appreciative of your assistance. Thank you, Commander."

Spock bowed in response, feeling oddly disassociated from the world. "No thanks are necessary. Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life." They both straightened, flashed the ta'al, and moved their separate ways.

Spock would have much appreciated, and been very thankful for, the opportunity to retire to his quarters to reflect on the meaning of the Captain's rejection of T'Panya, a healthy Vulcan female, and the implications of his own strangely possessive thoughts during the conversation.

But there was much to be done. The Bank of Bolias wanted their ambassadors to return to Bolarus IX for consultation on a regulation that was to be introduced to the Bolian Assembly in a week. Beaming coordinates had to be plotted, but Ensign Chekov was busy calculating the warp factor needed to bypass Bolarus XII without overtaxing the engines, and Engineer Scott and his workers were deep within the ship, reworking the internal configurations of the warp core.

Spock went to his quarters and began imputing data into his computer. His work was not progressing well. He was distracted, apparently.

Perhaps, speaking with the Captain might be prudent? If Spock truly wished to know the Captain's thoughts, than speaking with the male in question would be a logical step.

… The Captain was not in his quarters.

Spock stood on the threshold of the Captain's room, contemplating his next move. Should he enter fully? Would such an action be invasive? Most probably the man was somewhere within the lower sections of the ship, and would not take well to being commed on a whim.

He did not know what to do, now.

Ah, yes. The Bolarus IX coordinates.

Surely, performing such complex calculations while in such a mental state would render mathematical confidence difficult. Spock sat upon the Captain's bed instead.

What was the significance of the phrase 'long-distance relationship'? Was it only a term designed to render T'Panya's rejection less emotionally damaging?

If it was _not_, what effect would the statement have on the Captain's relation to his crew? The only people that he would not be separated from for long periods of time would be those on active duty on the Enterprise.

Spock rearranged himself so that he was lying with his head below the Captain's pillow. It would be rude for him to claim the item as his own.

Under the assumption that the Captain was simply attempting to convince T'Panya to exit his quarters – these quarters – than the statement was not to be taken as a statement of the Captain's opinion.

Under the assumption that T'Panya had accidentally uncovered a valid fact about the Captain, this meant that the only people the Captain saw compatible were those aboard the Enterprise.

There was, however, (Spock kicked off his boots and rested them on the footboard) the regulation disallowing sexual or romantic liaisons between people serving within the direct chain of command. While the Captain did not usually regard regulations with a large measure of respect, he did hold mutual consent to be one of the most important factors within any relationship (as evidenced by missions to Delta IV, Anora, and That'kan).

The only people the Captain had true, direct, unfiltered control over were the heads of departments. The department heads then passed his orders along their department staff.

But the Captain – Spock put his feet on the comforter, forcing him to bend his knees slightly – clearly felt that all aboard the Enterprise were his responsibility, and, therefore, all aboard the Enterprise were under his direct command. Spock had never seen Captain Kirk rebuke department heads for the failures of their staff: he always took the failing to be related only to himself and the person who committed the act.

And, Spock, usually.

The hybrid straightened his legs, pushing his head up next to Kirk's pillow. He briefly considered the fact that he was most likely scenting the blanket, but put it aside, for now.

Herewas a fascinating fact. The only person that Kirk trusted with issues pertaining to personnel disobedience was Spock. This could be explained as a display Kirk's unusual amount of trust in his first officer.

It could also be explained as an example of Jim's different views on Spock as a crewman, as opposed to Spock as a person.

It made sense. Doctor McCoy was the only other officer that Jim voluntarily spent his free time with, and Jim had known McCoy longer than he had known any other person on the ship. Additionally, the longer that Jim knew his Alpha shift crew, the more time he spent with those people.

So, logically, Jim spending large amounts of time with a crewman meant that he was beginning to view them as friends or confidants.

Jim spent an average of two hours with Spock in their recreational period. Jim was with McCoy off-duty in a daily average of forty-five minutes.

Jim either felt that Spock was a more trusted friend than McCoy – which Spock knew was extremely unlikely, the Doctor had known Jim for three more years than Spock, and such factors seemed to carry much weight in Terran social relations.

So either Spock was in the late developmental stages of a normal Terran friendship – a relatively weak bond… or he was in the early developmental stages of a stronger relationship.

Humans did not have shield-mates, not really. Jim's bond with McCoy was about as close as humans came to such a distinction. And Spock was not the same as McCoy.

The only other kinds of relationships were sexual or romantic.

Spock pondered this for a moment before moving on. The captain of the flagship of Starfleet was interested in the hybrid son of the Vulcan ambassador (and senior Councilman, now) in either a sexual or romantic manner.

That did not sound _entirely _implausible. Spock was of a reasonably high social class to be considered an appropriate choice for the head of the Captaincy. Jim, most likely, did not factor in such distinctions when choosing a partner, but others would certainly consider it.

His hybrid status was the more serious issue. Jim had definitively proven numerous times that he cared not at all for Spock's split parentage. Indeed, most humans did not: if they were at all concerned with his genetics, it seemed to be more distressing that he had any Vulcan in him at all.

However, Vulcans were increasingly seen as a more important and vital part of the Federation as time went on. The Federation had been able to ignore the origins of its most important scientific and mathematical developments when the Vulcan population was not the subject of documentaries and articles detailing war and destruction.

No, such would not be an insurmountable obstacle. And if anyone dared challenge a bond, they would not be seen as speaking for a large majority.

Spock moved his head onto the pillow. He had already clearly marked the comforter (though he had lain down with no intentions to do so, truly), it was not such a large gesture to scent the cushion as well.

Did he want to be Jim's companion? Truly? Such would be a large undertaking, and would certainly affect all areas of his life.

Was it possible that considering such a query would not be aided by lying in Jim's bed? Perhaps, such would be better moved to his own room?

Spock was preparing to do just that when the Captain wearily shuffled in.

Spock froze.

The Captain's eyes blew wide as he took in Spock's (now seated) position upon the bed.

Nothing was said for forty-seven point two four seconds.

Spock started first. "Captain, I apologize for the intrusion, I –,"

The blonde waved a hand, silencing him. "Jim, Jim, for god's sakes, Jim."

Such… seemed unwise, after Spock's insubordinate musings. No matter what the Captain's views on him personally, Spock was not going to do _anything_ while the Councilpeople were on board. The Captain needed all of his crew to be on task and focused on his orders.

"… I… do not believe that to be wise."

The Captain rotated his head so that he was looking, clearly irritated, at Spock from underneath dark brows. "Really."

Spock quailed. "… I do not mean to be disobedient sir, but –,"

"Spock."

"Yes, Captain."

"You're not going to call me Jim, are you."

"… That is _very_ improbable, Captain."

"Are you going to go meditate?"

"That seems the most wise decision, Captain."

Jim – _no_, the Captain, he had been doing so well – stood aside and gestured to the door. "Well. There it is."

"… Sir?"

"The _door_, Spock. You're not here to talk to me, clearly, and I can't deal with one more question about those damn politicians, and you need to meditate, so there it is. Have fun."

Spock resisted the urge to flinch and rose quickly. "I apologize for any –,"

"NO." The Captain sighed and ran a hand over his face. Spock was momentarily distracted by the way is smeared the grease there, and then realized that the Captain was _covered_ in oil: there was not four square inches that were clean, excepting the Captain's eyes.

"Spock, I need one of two things." Spock listened intently for orders. "I _either_ need _no one _near me, _no one_ talking to me, and most of all _no one_ giving me directions, for the next ten hours. OR: I need a friend who can listen to me bitch without any other motivation than to just _be_ there. Okay?"

Spock nodded, and carefully evaluated the options. While scenario two was definitely the more psychologically beneficial to the Captain, it also called for the absence of ulterior motives, and, without very focused deliberation, Spock was not quite sure if he had any.

But scenario one called for Jim to be all alone for ten hours after an exceedingly stressful period…

"Captain. I am currently unable to fulfill your requirements for scenario two." The Captain closed his eyes in apparent exhaustion. "May I please call Doctor McCoy? I believe that he will be much better suited to this task."

The Captain's eyes widened in surprise. Then he smiled tiredly. "Yeah, actually? That sounds perfect. Would you mind calling Bones for me?"

Spock bowed, relieved that he would be able to do something. "I shall do so momentarily, sir." The blonde nodded his thanks and began to work on the fastenings of his uniform shirt.

Spock found his communicator in his quarters, and contacted a very irritable McCoy. "What the hell do you want? You better not be sick, I'm fucking swamped."

"The Captain has had a trying day, and needs assistance that I do not feel qualified to give him. Can you please come to his quarters?"

McCoy seemed taken aback by something in Spock's tone. "… Is it medical, or does he need to vent?"

Spock had to quickly cross-reference the term 'vent' with other Terran slang. "He is in need of a companion who will not question him or speak with him who has any ulterior motives."

"So, why not you? You're no traitor. I don't think you're working for anybody other than Jim." McCoy seemed genuinely confused, and it made Spock irrationally pleased.

"I am not working for anyone else." He paused to consider his next statement carefully. "I… do not know if my relationship to the Captain may be, at this point in time, honestly described as a 'friendship'. I do not wish to impose myself upon him until I have clarified what it actually is."

"…" McCoy seemed stunned to silence. "… I…"

"Fascinating."

"Oh, you did _NOT_ just say that!" McCoy howled.

"May I assume that you shall be meeting with the Captain?"

"Yeah." The Doctor could be heard packing papers into a variety of compartments. "But don't think I'm gonna drop this."

Spock had no idea what the man was talking about. "… Very well."

"And as long as we understand each other? You hurt him, I kill you. Capiche?"

… He did not know what that final word meant, either. But he felt that he had irritated enough senior Enterprise crew in the past twenty minutes, so simply said, "Indeed, I do," and cut the connection.

.bdodb.


	13. Conversations

A/N: I was in NYC for a week and a half; sorry for the delay.

Phenotype: an organism's physical appearance, as dictated by its genotype, or genetic code.

_Oui_ and _Excusez-moi_: Yes and Excuse me, respectively.

.bdobd.

Jim had kind of expected a greeting when McCoy came through the door. Instead, the doctor made a sort of aborted tilt of the head and did a little dive for Jim's liquor store.

"I just had the. Strangest. Conversation. With your first officer. Ever."

"Even more than the katra one?" Jim asked with a smile. He went and got a chair for Bones; Jim'd claimed the one on the desk and Bones had a 'thing' about Jim's bed.

"Yes." Bones took the proffered chair and faced the blonde. "Are you and Spock dating?"

Blink.

"…"

McCoy was still waiting solemnly for an answer.

"… Not that I know of?"

"Because I think I just heard Spock tell me that I had to come here because you said you wanted to talk to a friend and that he didn't fit that description any more. Now, as far as I know you two are still pretty friendly, and the only other thing _I_ can think of…"

"…" Jim blinked some more. "… I… was kinda waiting for everyone to get off the ship, actually. I didn't know he felt that way."

McCoy lay back against his seat. "So, you're not doing anything now?"

Jim smirked cynically. "I dunno if you've noticed, but we're not really on good terms right now."

"But that isn't because of some lover's spat, right?"

He shook his head. "No. Almost be better if it was though; I'd know if I lost anything. Here, I'm not even sure where we were in the first place."

Bones took a long pull of a brownish liquid. "Fair enough. You get that you're probably confusing the everloving hell outta the poor man right now, yeah?"

Jim winced and fiddled with his glass. "Yeah."

Bones took pity on him. "So, you needed to bitch?"

Jim shrugged and drank. "Eh." He looked down at his glass. "Hey, that's not bad. Is this mine?"

McCoy shrugged. "Must be, was here when I came in. Really, you okay?"

"I'm better now. It's the engines and T'Panya and _people_."

Bones snorted. "No kidding. Hivash's practically nailed herself to my desk, worrying about how Barnett's losing his mind. Thank god they're all leaving soon."

"Oh? Do tell."

Bones went into the proper Male Gossiping Position. "Right, so, after the Narada, they made the whole Command track part of the Academy more visible, remember?"

"Yeah, to make it more competitive." There was always a 'future Captains of the Federation' list, but making it public was doing wonders for test scores and motivation.

"Spock was the guy who standardized classes across all tracks; he's the one who made it so that I had to take that fucking Tact/Nav course in my fourth year to pass, so that if the ship ever went to hell there'd be someone steering, I guess.

"So Barnett's gone in and made a _separate_ Command track that doesn't uses Spock's standardization rules, and it's going nowhere. None of the students in his schedule are passing their other classes, because all of the other teachers use Spock's lesson plans. I swear, the man's written the curriculum for the entire fucking Academy.

"Anyway, Barnett's pissed as all hell. He must've done it to get some of Spock's power, and it crashed and burned."

Jim was beaming by the second paragraph. "I knew it. I _knew it._ That fucking bastard hates sharing the glory; Spock having that much influence over the cadet core must've been riling him up for _months_."

Bones nodded and grinned over his cup. "Man could get the entire core to rise up against Barnett with a fucking memo to the professors. Lucky for the Commodore he doesn't get annoyed easily."

Jim snorted. "Yeah, no kidding. I'm not even sure he knows how much he's got in the Academy." He thought a moment before brightening even further. "Hey! And if Barnett's pissed at him, he _can't_ be trying for mutiny." Jim frowned, "Fuck, better go apologize for that one."

Bones gave him a look. "You thought that _Spock_ wanted to _mutiny?_"

Jim squirmed and shrugged. "It _could _happen. You know. Technically."

The doctor was giving him an aggrieved look. "Good god man, if the guy'd kill for anyone it'd be you and _I_ know _you_ know that because you've _complained _to me about it!"

The blonde winced. "I _know_, I _know_. It was fucking stupid. But the guy's avoiding me now; it's really awkward."

Boned did not look impressed. "You realize that being in a fight with someone does not _really_ set a romantic mood? And we're a couple days from Earth? Where everyone will be getting off?"

"… Yeah. I… I know that."

"…"

Jim squirmed some more. He drank.

Bones glared a bit longer, sighed, and went about getting the two of them pretty well hammered.

When Bones was well past the point of no return, Jim told him a bit about how he'd be needing to talk to the President of the Federation, as directed by T'Pau. He might've even told him a bit about the missing sixth, poor Captain Menthe, but he didn't really remember.

Bones wouldn't, either.

.bdobd.

Zarabeth had been having one of her bad weeks. The first three days were taken up with her coming to terms that her assistant had A: fallen in love with the Captain (_'For fuck's sake!'_ was a term that had come up a few times) B: _told_ the man that was _flying them home_ of this, and then, C: had revealed that she would like to go back to Vulcan II now, please, as housing had just become available.

So, now Zarabeth was stuck with an assistant that could not interview most of the Command staff face to face, because if she did and they knew about her and the Captain it wouldn't go well in the _least_, and with no assistant in about three hours, when 'extraneous passengers' were allowed to disembark.

In France.

There had, of course, been absolutely no warning for this. She'd looked out her little window and seen not the Pacific Ocean, a la San Fransisco, but the Palais de la Concorde, the Presidential offices.

Well, that was all fine and dandy – if she was in the mood to talk to her boss, whose offices were literally eleven blocks from the docking bay.

She was not in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment. Let her live up to her 'Extraneous passenger' label.

She had to say, she loved that phrase. 'Extraneous passengers'. Really put an exclamation point on the basic mood of the ship the past week and a half, with all the crew running around trying to convince them, albeit very politely, to _get the fuck off of their ship_, thank you very much.

She went up to the bridge with Stevens – who really was a great guy – to see if she could get a couple soundbites from the Captain, and maybe a genuine laugh to take with her on the road.

Sulu looked up at her from the Captain's Chair as she entered the room. "Not here, Miss Nowmi. Left about an hour ago."

She blinked at him. "I though no one could leave until Security scoped out all of the alley cats to see if they weren't carrying IEDs in their ears, or something."

Sulu smiled but shook his head. "He's the Captain; he's got the passcodes to all of the doors on his own ship, of course."

"He just up and left?" Stevens asked.

Sulu shrugged. "It's his right. I'm sure he has a reason. He always does. And everyone usually agrees that it was for the better, in the end."

Well, he had a point. But it was annoying. "Thanks, Sulu." She looked around the bridge crew. "Well, I know you're glad to see me gone, but I really appreciate how nice everyone was. It makes my job a lot easier. See you later."

Sulu, and everyone else, chorused 'Goodbye' in their various native languages. She and Stevens waved farewell, and left the bridge.

"You think we should go to Commander Spock, see if we can get anything there?" Stevens asked in the lift.

Zarabeth shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."

They got off on the Commander's quarters deck and buzzed for entry into the Commander's room. The Vulcan opened the door rather blearily. "May I be of some service to you?"

Zarabeth resisted the urge to crane her head to see into the unexpectedly sumptuous room behind the Commander. "Just wanted to get a few last reels for the show, Commander," Stevens piped up unexpectedly. "We were going to ask the Captain of course, but with him not being on the ship it's a bit hard to get him in the frame."

The Commander looked a _very very little bit_ surprised. "The Captain is not on board the Enterprise?"

"No, Commander," Nowmi said, "Lieutenant Sulu said he left about an hour ago, sir. We thought you knew."

"Negative, I had not been informed." The Commander did a mini-frown. "Did the Lieutenant say where the Captain's destination was?"

"It sounded like he didn't tell anyone, anything, sir."

Spock did the frown thing again. Zarabeth was pleased that she could see it now; it'd been absolutely humiliating when she'd finally realized just how much the Commander had hated her that first day on the bridge. She totally hadn't picked up on it at first.

"I must locate the Captain. I do not know why he left the ship. Please do not inform any more people on board the Enterprise, so as to prevent unnecessary concern."

Zarabeth and Stevens both nodded, and the Commander whisked them aside on his determined trek down the hall toward the lift. Stevens looked at her, shrugged, and started off towards the lift at the opposite end of the hallway. Looked like they wouldn't be doing much of anything for the next couple hours.

.bdobd.

Spock realized the flaw in his otherwise very good plan after exiting the Enterprise.

He had spoken with Lieutenant Sulu, and determined the general direction the Captain appeared to be heading in. He had then left the ship and headed off in the exact opposite direction.

Twenty yards away from the docking bay, he began asking after the Captain, who was not an easy man to ignore.

At this point, Spock remembered two very important facts. One of which was the strange but persistent phenomenon surrounding human's contextual memories.

The Captain was very recognizable.

_When the Captain was with his crew._

There were many humans on Earth. Humans were a species that featured a particularly diverse phenotype. Therefore, one particular human was not often recognizable to the greater population without the specific contextual clues that distinguished one human from another.

The Captain was not recognized without his crew.

This was the first issue.

The second issue was that Spock did not speak very good French.

And the French, apparently, had not bothered to learn Standard. Or Andorian. Or Spanish or Continental Indian or American English.

His mother had spoken some French, but the majority of them were curses, shouted at top volume during a moment of strong emotional urges.

The results of his Captain's strange ability to become utterly invisible to the majority of Parisians, combined with Spock's admittedly unorthodox French vocabulary, made for a series of brief but highly memorable encounters, many of them involving the principles of force and momentum and hot caffeinated beverages.

Forty three minutes after exiting the Enterprise, and running out of time before the entire population of irritable Councilpeople came streaming out of the ship, Spock found himself in front of the Palais de la Concorde, which was not at all where he wanted to be.

Where he dearly wished to be was back on the Enterprise. The past forty minutes were a graphic reminder of why he strongly disliked human parties.

The stunted remains of the ancient obelisk that marked the center of the square were surrounded by a short metal fence, which was connected to a rectangular bench that circumvented the squat little monument. The obelisk had survived for centuries, largely unharmed, until the Eugenics Wars of the very late twentieth century, which saw many raids carried out on the French capitol.

Capitol cities, and other places of easily seen governmental power, were not the Captain's preferred domain. He favored taverns and other places with ready access to vaguely illegal beverages much more.

So Spock's surprise was understandable when he heard Jim's voice sound from the gates of the Palais.

Spock stood up and got around the damaged stone in time to see a guard of the Palais let his Captain through the gates.

Spock strode up to the gate. "I must pass. That was my Captain, and I am his first officer. I must speak with him."

The guard snorted at him, and spoke in very slightly accented Standard. "You are the First Officer to a cameraman? If I carried your name, I would find other employment."

Spock blinked with shock. "A… A cameraman?"

"_Oui._ That is a Mister Stevens, who works for a Miss Nowmi. She is to come here to speak about Mister President, and Mister Stevens was ordered to come before his boss did so as to find the best angles for a camera."

"A… That… That is false! That is Captain James Kirk of the USS Enterprise! Is it so difficult for humans to see the savior of their planet?"

The guard raised an insolent eyebrow. "Do you have proof of this?"

"_Excusez-moi?_"

"Identification, proof that he is who you say he is. I know I am speaking this clearly; I went to many classes."

"Why would I carry the identification of another person on my person?"

The guard shrugged. "He had a card that stated that he was a Mister Stevens, who works for a Miss Nowmi, who is a reporter. I have seen her. I do not agree with her, but she is a reporter, and I know she has her own camera people."

Spock stood at the gate and withheld an aggrieved spluttering. In that moment, he rather loathed Captain James Tiberius Kirk. The man was irritating and cunning and far too dubious of character to have been given what he had and the _insolence of that ridiculous human, making Spock go through –!_

Spock gathered himself slightly and executed the worst bow that he had preformed since he was four years old and his father had begun tutoring him in the arts of diplomacy. He opened his communicator, ordered a beam up, now, and was finally taken back to the ship.

.bdobd.

"All people labeled 'Extraneous Passenger' may now disembark. Lieutenant Uhura out."

…

"Last call, all Extraneous Passengers, please exit the vessel. Lieutenant Uhura out."

…

"All right, _right_ful _crew_ of the _Enterprise_! Our deadweight is all _gone, gone, gone, gone_! into the French capitol. There's a party in the mess at 2100 hours, BYOB, of course. We're getting official leave tomorrow at 0800 hours. Uhura out!"

…

_'Celebrate good times, come on!_

_It's a celebration_

_Celebrate good times, come on!_

_Let's celebrate._

_'We're gonna have a good time tonight_

_Let's celebrate, it's all right_

_We're gonna have a good time tonight_

_Let's celebrate, it's all right_

_'Baby…'_

.bdobd.

Spock did not attend the rather exuberant festivities following the Great Migration of the Dipwads (title accredited to a Mr. Leonard H. McCoy, censured where necessary). He waited for the Captain.

The Captain returned to the Enterprise three days after he left.

Spock was on the bridge when he saw the Captain's return, with Lieutenant R'Vish, who he found to have some very interesting stories about her time in Denevan space. The majority of the crew were somewhere around Paris, enjoying their shore leave.

The Captain went to his quarters, and Spock excused himself from the bridge, leaving the capable R'Vish at the conn. She deserved a promotion soon.

Spock requested entry and was admitted almost immediately. "Spock! How's it been? I heard there was a _fantastic_ party couple nights ago; I'm sorry I missed it!"

Jim looked worn, but clearly was very happy. Spock found himself oddly disappointed. He had meditated deeply after his supremely irritating trip in Paris, and had expected Jim to look at least relieved to be back. Instead, he appeared happy to have gone.

"Was your trip inside the Palais de Concorde successful, Captain?"

Well. Jim _had_ looked happy. Now, his expression was one of shock. "How'd you know about that? Was it Bones?"

Spock settled into a loose parade rest. "Negative. I was attempting to find you and saw you enter the gates."

"You… You went looking for me?" He was now clearly concerned. "Fuck, what happened? Did something go wrong?"

"Negative. I felt that as Captain, it would be best for you to be present when the guests of your own ship left."

"Oh, god," the man paled considerably, "Spock, what happened?"

"Nothing, sir. All is going according to schedule."

The blonde appeared confused. "I don't understand. Why'd you leave the ship if I wasn't needed –?"

"What was I to say," Spock interrupted, "when your guests asked me where you, the leader of this ship, was? What was I to answer when they requested your presence, or your contact information, or a personal statement to be delivered, or any other of the normal, completely predictable requests that centered _entirely_ on you?

"I went to locate you so I knew what I was to do in such a situation and I was so delayed by this that Lieutenants Uhura and Sulu were called upon to see all four hundred people off with neither of their most senior officers present. Such may account for the extremely celebratory tone that was taken at the festivities."

Spock paused to catalogue the Captain's appearance. He looked ill. "Shall I continue, sir, or do you wish to sit down?"

The Captain winced, gritted his teeth, set his jaw, and took up residence in his desk chair. He motioned grandly towards the bed. "Go on."

"Thank you sir." Spock sat. "I would like to know why your mission was kept a total secret from the entirety of your crew."

"It was a confidential mission."

"Of what ranking?"

"Red forty."

Spock blinked sharply. Classified-Red only reached degree twenty. "Such a classification –,"

"Is so confidential that no one other than Captain-and-Above are supposed to know about it." The Captain flared his hands in sarcastic submission. "Well, congrats. You're special."

Spock began to feel that he had made a rather terrible mistake. But, this was not the first time such an event had been started because of the Captain not revealing information. "Thank you, Captain. But I am in need of additional information. This is not the first time such a misunderstanding has arisen from your covert activities. May I have some brief overview of the parameters of your mission, so that I may explain to others where you are?"

"No."

He appeared to believe this an acceptable answer. "May I ask why?"

"No."

"… I may not even inquire into –,"

"No." The Captain stood. "You stay there," he ordered as Spock made to rise, "and listen to me. I am your commanding officer. There is something that you can't know about yet. And you will _not_ know of it _until I decide that you may_. That is my right as your superior; is that understood, Commander Spock?"

"I…" The Captain _never_ pulled rank. Spock was always considered above such distinctions; what was so different about –?

"Commander Spock!" The hybrid looked up guiltily. "Are my statements understood?"

"Yes, Captain, but I do not see why this is being treated so differently than all of the other classified missions that we have –,"

"This is not 'we', Spock."

Spock flinched and fell silent. Captain Kirk turned and began to pace. "This is not 'us'. This is just the Admirals and the Captaincy. I can not tell you what is going on right now. I was ordered to the Palais. I didn't mean to leave you alone without help, but I had to. I'm sorry for that, but it can't be fixed now."

"How long is the mission expected to last?"

"I don't know. If I leave like that again, and I don't come back," Spock had been examining his hands before this, and looked up again, "just assume that it has to deal with this. Tell Pike I've gone, and you're worried. He'll take it from there."

"Captain, all of the Admirals were on board the ship when you exited –,"

Captain Kirk spun back around to stare right at Spock. "I. Can not. Tell you. Anything. You will not get anything other from me, and if I catch you trying to hack, coerce, or bribe your way to an explanation from _anyone_ because of this mission, I will court martial you for insubordination and mutiny.

"Am I understood, Commander Spock?"

Spock nodded slightly. "Yes, Captain Kirk."

"Good." The Captain went back to his desk. "You have two more days of shore leave. I recommend that you make use of them."

.bdobd.


	14. Revelation

A/N: I have a beta now (I KNOW RIGHT :D ) but I wasn't able to get in touch with her. So, yeah, there's gonna be some spelling errors. I am seemingly incapable of tracking them down. -_- I swear, I hate them as much as (probably more than, come to think of it) you do, but after typing for three plus hours straight, I just can't read any more.

Clavicles: collar bones.

.bdobd.

The next two days were some of the worst…

No. That wasn't quite right.

Jim had been through hell and back, and he'd seen people he loved be affected by it, and he'd watched his government fail him, and those had been the very, very worse days of his life.

This was somewhere up there, though.

The Enterprise's halls were uncomfortably empty. It reminded him of the school rooms on the first days of the Genocide, when all of the 'flawed' staff members were taken away at gunpoint to be killed, and all of the students had been sent home early.

Kodos's men came for them the next day. Jim survived because he went back to his classroom to try and find Ms. Pettit.

But, no, still, that wasn't quite it.

Things were, honest to gods, _not that bad._ Everyone was healthy. Everyone was alive. He had his ship under his feet, and the mission was going about as well as could be expected.

It was, literally, almost embarrassingly, only Spock that was making him feel so anxious. He'd been on the ship during a leave before, and he'd been alright, after a few minutes of utter horribleness.

And there'd been orders that he'd hated before, too. Ones that had meant that he'd have to sacrifice his people – _his_ people, not someone else's playthings, his _crew_, his family – for the 'greater good'.

But he'd had Bones and Spock, and the bridge complement, and Giotto and Scotty and everyone, to help.

It was so much worse without them.

Jim stuck his index fingers in his belt loops – damn uniforms didn't have pockets – and wandered morosely into his quarters. He parked himself at his desk and turned on his computer.

It came to live with a maliciously cheerful little 'ping'. Jim glared ineffectively at it, and started to scroll through his messages.

Sulu wanted more for botany, like usual. Jim'd call up Pike and see if he could get the man something; he deserved a treat for handling Archer so well.

Scotty wanted more for engineering, fine, they were due for an upgrade. They could stop by Base XI; Tishri'd give them a good deal.

Nothing from Spock.

Jim was surprised at how much that bugged him, and moved on before his brain started obsessing over it.

Chekov told him Calta was nearly skipping with glee (the bastard would be, wouldn't he?) and sent him an invitation to a Yuletide party on the Enterprise –

Jim gave a choked laugh.

Well, it _appeared_ that Chekov _might_ want to host a Christmas party this year. That sounded like a good idea, actually. He'd have to get help from Uhura and permission from Giotto, though. Jim RSVPed for the… idea of a party and told him to talk to the head of Security before ordering any decorations.

Giotto wanted a promotion for Lieutenant R'Vish. Jim though the name sounded familiar, looked it up, and realized that he'd had an Admiral's daughter working on the bridge for a year and hadn't realized it till now. Weird.

Giotto said that Spock agreed, as well, and Jim signed off on a ceremony to take place Whenever-Possible.

Whenever-Possible was military for 'Soon-ish', but Giotto wouldn't let the poor kid hang there. He'd take care of it.

Bones told him to get a move on with Spock. Jim closed the message before he could hear the rest of it.

Uhura?

Weird.

Uhura _never_ sent him stuff. She got one of her little minions to do it for her.

The blonde leaned back in his chair and opened the audio file. Uhura's official Fleet profile picture – which looked a lot like a high school yearbook photo; everyone's did – opened on the holoscreen.

"Hey, Cap'n," she said, mimicking Scotty unconsciously. Jim snorted softly.

"Just wanted to give you an update on Admiral Nestly. He'd been really quiet – nice, you know, quite polite, but not really saying much. And then right before we docked I checked in on him and he just _went off _on how his 'favorite Captain' wasn't getting all the effort that he deserved, or something like that.

"But I didn't think Nestly _had_ a favorite.

"So I looked into it, and I found out something _really_ interesting. There are six Captains, right? And there are eight Admirals. Everyone's been saying that for a year, now.

"But if you list all of the Captains, there aren't six of them.

"Kirk for Pike, and then Nimeret for Bolim, Tranya for R'Vish – did you know that we have her daughter on crew? She's a Lieutenant –, Nimeav for Calta, and then Topos doesn't have an Admiral.

"So that's five. Kirk, Nimeret, Tranya, Nimeav, and Topos.

"But there are _six_ Captains, supposedly.

"So I did a bit of research and this guy called Menthe, no first name, popped up in duty rosters from two years ago. He'd be the sixth Captain.

"I hadn't _heard_ anything about a Captain Menthe. Do you know anything? It's been bugging me.

"Thanks,

"Lieutenant Uhura out."

Jim blinked quietly at the dark screen for a moment. He went into the bathroom and stared at the drain in the sink.

This was really bad.

The whole point of mission confidentiality was that no one _knew_ about the mission until it had succeeded. Or, no one ever knew about it.

If it didn't succeed, that is.

Jim leaned over the sink as he felt his stomach roll ominously.

But now Uhura knew about Menthe. And she didn't know about how she wasn't supposed to know about Menthe.

She was professional, though. And she would know better than to go spreading the word around about something that he hadn't signed off on yet.

Jim waited for the nausea to stop, and then went back to his desk. He typed out a short note about how Menthe had died in the Narada Incident, and must've been no one had gotten around to posting it.

Then he went back into the bathroom and threw up.

.bdobd.

Spock's rather poor command of the French language had not been aided by his attempts to drown it into submission.

And the intoxicants were having a merry time playing havoc with his knees.

So he had resigned himself to sit slumped at a French bar, 'nursing' (an odd 'turn of phrase') a something-or-other that managed to render him completely incapable of rational thought, for the rest of the night, when Nyota arrived.

She was on one side of the bar.

Spock was on the opposite side of the bar.

The expression she assumed when she recognized his rather unusually splayed form was enough to cause him to seriously consider making a dash for the back exit. He even stiffened slightly in preparation.

That was as far as he got, however.

Uhura did not have any difficulty reaching him, or spinning him around, or shoving what he assumed was a hypo filled with sobriety medication into his clavicles.

"That hurt."

"You needed it, you great idiot." She sat upon the stool next to him. "Of all the nights for you to test how much you could take…"

"I do not hold," he gestured with the glass, "well."

"No one does." She sounded angry, and scared. "That's the only reason people drink that shit, is that it gets _everyone_ drunk."

"Fascinating. I –,"

"No. You shut up. What the fuck happened?"

He would not break the Captain's confidence. "It is… I do not believe it to be of your concern, though you may disagree."

She snorted. "No kidding. Fine," she became serious again, "but I need you to listen. Are you clear?"

"…"

"Are you sober, I mean."

"Ah." Spock considered the question. "Mostly."

"Good. I need you a bit tipsy."

_That _was ominous.

"I sent a message today to the Captain, asking about a guy named Menthe. You ever heard of him?"

"… Negative."

Uhura raised an eyebrow delicately. Spock got the impression that if he answered falsely, he may soon awaken with fewer organs than he had than when he fell asleep. "I know of him. He was the captain of the Excalibur II."

"Right. And the Excalibur captains are always weird, right?"

"… They are known for being of a more explosive temperament, yes."

"But not Menthe, right?" Uhura was oddly fixated on the man. "He was picked because of his Communications experience, right?"

Spock attempted to sit straighter on his stool, and succeeded. "I was not privy to the confidential processes surrounding –,"

"Oh, for the god's sakes," Uhura burst out. "You were the _head of the Communications Department!_ You _had _to have heard _something_!"

"He was known for his work with the Xindi Empire. His promotion was well received by the Academy professors."

Uhura apparently expected him to continue. He did not, and raised a brow to encourage her to do so. She sighed. "Fine. Be that way.

"Nestly's into Communications, right? He likes them? So he, supposedly, is really partial to Menthe."

"That would be one interpretation of the data, yes." Spock did not know where this conversation was heading.

"Nestly got really angry right before we docked. He said that his 'favorite Captain' wasn't getting all the help he needed, or something."

Spock was tired. "Nyota, I am tired, and I am not operating at peak efficiency. You are going to have to explain this in full."

"I am, I am." She peered suspiciously around the room, as if one of the half-dead patronage were going to eavesdrop on a human and a drunken Vulcan. "So I asked Kirk about this, and he told be that Menthe was a Captain who was killed in the Narada.

"But Menthe _wasn't!_ The Excalibur was sent out, but Menthe stayed behind in San Francisco to help with the Vulcan messages.

"The Captain is _totally_ up to something!"

"… And?"

Uhura blinked. "What?"

"Lieutenant Uhura." Spock swiveled boozily on his bar stool to rest an elbow on the bar in front of them. "_Why_ do you think I am here?"

Nyota blinked again. "You… You already knew about Menthe?"

"I did not know that the issue had resurfaced. I am, however, in frequent contact with Barnett."

Uhura did not have to know that Barnett had never mentioned Menthe's name.

"So… Do you know what'd going on? All I've got is that Nestly's pissed, which probably means that Calta's happy, and Menthe didn't die in the Narada, and the Captain's hiding something."

"Recall that the Captain left the ship before anyone else was allowed to exit."

"You think that it's connected to this?"

"I know so." Spock eyed his glass, considered taking a worldly drink, and then dismissed the idea as being shortsighted and ill conceived. "I had a disagreement with the Captain two days ago. I asked him about his visit to the Palais de Concorde, and he said that he could not tell me. I pushed him to answer, and he lost his patience."

Nyota's eyes gleamed. Not far beneath the surface of any truly great Communications specialist, there is a _terrible_ gossip. "What do you think he did down there?"

"I do not know. I have taken my time on-planet to research Captain Menthe, and have found nothing conclusive."

"Damn." Nyota set her elbows on the bar and propped her head in her hands. "It'd not like we can look it up on the ship's computers; the Captain has all of the records."

"Indeed."

"Fucker." She pouted. "Well, if he's so anxious that he's snapping at _you_, then things should come to a head soon."

"What does my identity have to do with his temper?"

Uhura sent him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me?"

Spock considered the expression, arrived at a very pleasant answer, and felt his ears go green.

Nyota grinned toothily. "Even _you_ can see it."

.bdobd.

Spock awoke the next morning with a mild headache and serious dehydration. He planned his next actions while drinking his second quart of water.

The last conversation Spock had had with his superior officer, Jim had become infuriated when Spock had implied that Jim was too ill or too affected to stand. Jim felt helpless or weak, and did not want to be reminded of that fact.

Jim had stated multiple times that the mission only involved him, to the exclusion of everyone else on the ship. The Admirals were involved to a slight extent; he had said so quite blatantly. 'This is just the Admirals and the Captaincy.'

Jim had lied to Nyota when she had inquired after Mr. Menthe. Menthe had not been seen or heard from for three months. The Excalibur II had not been sighted for the same amount of time.

The Captain's mission was most likely to contact or save Menthe, or to gather information on his disappearance. The President was either directing the efforts, or had information that was necessary for the eventual completion of the mission.

Spock could not think of a single way to bring all of this to the forefront without the Captain absolutely losing his mind.

Jim's affection – he could refer to it in his head, at least, without becoming visibly affected – played in his favor. Also, if Spock could argue that the mission was somehow detrimental to the workings of the Enterprise in the _long_ term, and the Federation at large, than maybe Jim would be forced to explain the mission parameters, if only to prove Spock wrong.

There really was no acceptable way to broach the topic, however. Spock wandered over to the hotel's complimentary holo-screen and placed his glass on the bed. He went over to the closet and selected a clean uniform.

He turned on the holo-screen. Maybe he could find inspiration in a minor news item.

.bdobd.

Jim was on the bridge, running a test of the climate control unit with Scotty, and turned on the news on the main screen to distract himself from how _goddamn fucking cold_ it had become in four seconds flat.

The world fell apart. Jim couldn't afford to.

"Scotty…" Jim started shakily, "Can you hear me?"

"Aye, Cap'n. Almos' done."

He gathered his tone back up into one spot, so it was a bit steadier. "… How long is that?"

"Yah cold ye'?"

"Freezing."

"Done."

Jim leapt from his chair and made a break for the lift door. Shoes squealing, he spun about and frantically shut off the news.

He made it to his quarters in under a minute and took a moment to calm himself. He then, carefully, _exactly_, entered the code for Nowmi's network. Or, T'Panya's, now. Nowmi'd said something about dodging her boss, hadn't she?

.bdobd.

"Not ten hours ago, Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura of the USS Enterprise were heard discussing the fate of a reported 'Captain Menthe'. Neither of the officers knew the whereabouts of the man, but they agreed that Captain Kirk of the Enterprise was involved with his recovery.

"The Captain was reported to have made a visit to the President's offices at the Palais de Concorde three days ago. The Admiralty does not appear to have been involved with the planning of the visit.

"Mister Menthe was the captain of the USS Excalibur II, a Constitution class starship, from 2258.42 to 2259.04. He and his ship have not been heard from for over three months.

"This is Reporter T'Panya with the IPFP-double N. We will be covering this story, along with any other breaking news, right here on Channel 60, subcode 72-8.12."

.bdobd.

Jim ordered Scotty to oversee the re-boarding, and told him to send Spock to him as soon as the man arrived.

T'Panya had been standing in front of a bar on Les Halles, where the Rungis market used to be. He spent a few minutes pawing through all available data on the place, realized that he still had T'Panya's comm number, cursed, and dove for his address book.

He was one of those stupid people who still liked the paper-and-plastic-teeth versions, and was had felt just bad enough for letting T'Panya loose, that he'd written it somewhere in here…

But he couldn't remember whether it was under 'T', 'P', or 'V' for Vulcan.

[more pawing; some cursing]

He found the damn thing under 'D' (for 'Don't call') and lurched up to his imput pad. He tapped in the number and waited.

He stuffed himself back into his chair, as a sort of afterthought.

T'Panya came back on his screen, looking very pleased with herself. Jim couldn't find it in himself to be angry at her. She really was just doing her job.

"Captain James. I had hoped that you would contact me."

"Well," he spread his arms, "here I am." He planted his elbows on his desk. "Why were you at that bar last night? Were you following my crew?"

Of course she wasn't _following _them. He just wanted to figure out who'd been the idiot smart enough to phone into the station.

"The bartender recorded the conversation on a security camera and sent the footage to us."

… The bartender.

Jim was going to _kill_ Uhura when she got back. Talk about sensitive information in front of the _bartender_? _Really?_

"… Alright. What made you decide to air the piece?"

"The studio felt that more information would make itself available as the visibility of the issue increased."

"Humm. Fine, but why not show the audio or visual bits of it?"

"… It was deemed… 'In bad taste', I believe the phrase is." She lowered her voice slightly, as if that would stop the four hundred camera crew from eavesdropping. "The Commander was _quite_ intoxicated."

Jim groaned and resisted the urge to beat himself over the head with his keyboard. "… Right. I may call you back later, but I've got a call." Scotty's comm link had popped up on his screen. "Talk to you later."

T'Panya nodded her head. "And to you, Captain James. Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life."

Jim was reaching for the 'accept' key before the screen had totally cleared. "Scotty, who've you got for me?"

"I's the Commander, an' he's lookin' qui'e contri'e."

Scotty didn't sound very sympathetic. He must've been watching the broadcast on his jury-rigged comm.

"Send him to my quarters."

"Aye, Cap'n." In the background, Jim could hear Scotty shuffling Spock along. "C'mon Commanda, le's ge' on wi' it. Soona you star'ed and all tha'."

The doors closed on Scotty's end. "Give 'im 'ell for me, sir," the engineer whispered, "the crew's gonna be ahll worked up abou' this."

"I will," Kirk promised, amused, "don't worry."

The connection was cut, and Spock asked for entry in record time.

Kirk let him in and had a shark's grin waiting for him. "So. I heard you had a _very interesting_ night. Care to discuss?"

Spock looked _mortified_, as he well should. He had _royally _fucked up. "Captain, I am so sorry. I did not –,"

"You didn't realize that the bartender existed? Or that he had _ears_? You seemed to get that when you were ordering the strongest shit the bastard must've had; I just got off the phone with T'Panya and she said you were fucking hammered."

"She said what?"

"She said you were '_quite_ intoxicated'." Kirk let his eyebrows rise, and he shrugged innocently. "I just translated it into Standard."

Spock swallowed nervously. "I… understand."

Kirk let him stew on his honestly deplorable behavior for five minutes. When Spock was done disciplining himself far more effectively than Kirk ever could, the blonde interrupted him.

"Now." He pointed to the bed. "Sit."

Spock made his meek way over and sat.

"Tell me everything you know, and everything you suspect."

The Commander started in immediately. "The mission only involves you, to the exclusion of everyone else on the ship. The Admirals are involved to a slight extent. You lied to Lieutenant Uhura when she had inquired after Mr. Menthe. You stated that he had died in the Narada Incident, which is not true; Menthe was stationed in San Francisco for the duration of both the battles of Vulcan and Earth.

"Menthe had not been seen or heard from for three months. The Excalibur II had not been sighted for the same amount of time.

"Your mission is most likely to contact or save Menthe, or to gather information on his disappearance. The President was either directing the efforts, or had information that was necessary for the eventual completion of the mission, which is why you entered the Palais under false pretenses three days ago.

"The Admiralty did not know of your visit to the Palais, and you did not want them to. The Admiralty is beginning to fragment because of the stress in dealing with the Excalibur II's disappearance.

"Nestly is partial to Menthe, who was proficient in Communications work. Calta does not like Nestly, so he dislikes Menthe by association."

Spock paused anxiously. "I… believe that is all, sir."

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yes… Affirmative, Captain."

Spock got his professional attitude back, fast. Good. There wasn't enough time to bitch and panic.

"Good. How much does Uhura know?"

"She knows of all but the minor details of your visit to the Palais. She does not know of the circumstances of your entry. She does not place the proper gravity on the arguments of Nestly and Calta. The rest, she knows."

"Will she tell anyone?"

"Negative. She realizes the seriousness of the situation at hand, and revels in it."

"T'Panya. She know anything special?"

"No. She knows what Uhura does. T'Panya has greater reference sources, however, and will quickly learn of any leaked details surrounding the Captain's disappearance."

"There weren't any; we made sure of that."

"Captain…"

"Yes?"

Spock squirmed. "Sir… Sir, the reason that the studio released the information was that it felt that more clarity would be gained by exposing the issue to a wider audience, correct?"

Here we go. "Right."

The Vulcan squared his shoulders. "Sir, the studio was correct. With greater recourses, more will be learned. It would be inefficient to continue with your orders alone, now that the majority of the crew knows of the basic details surrounding the mission."

Kirk leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands lightly. "Spock. Do you know what you are asking me to do?"

"… Your tone implies that I do not, sir."

"This is an issue of huge importance that _must_ stay quiet, or we'll all go to hell. You know the Cardassians? You know they haven't been comming us lately? They're getting annoyed, Spock. So are the Orions and the Bolians and the Vulcans and the Romulans and even probably the fucking Klingons.

"And we are one ship short.

"And your little screw-up down there doesn't exactly inspire fucking _confidence_."

Spock flinched with that last word, but held firm. "Sir, I will not let you do this alone."

Kirk gave him a Look.

Spock didn't budge an inch.

Jim grinned and sighed with relief. He caught Spock's stunned expression out of the corner of his eye.

"Thank god," he said, sitting up happily, "because I need a _shitload_ of help."

.bdobd.


	15. Messes

A/N: Sorry it's late, there were computer problems. There were plugs, plugs, everywhere. Scary.

Word of warning: I'm probably not going to post any time between the 15th and the 21st of this month. That's the first week of my school year, and I'll be busy getting settled. I can promise you three chapters total for the month of August. Hopefully, I'll be able to squeeze in four, but no promises there.

Planet 41 Beta, for any who don't remember, is the planet that was under membership review in Without Direction. They were eventually rejected because of an open channel they kept with the Cardassian government.

A Vulcan year is 456 days long, with an error margin of 33 days. So it's _about_ three months longer than an Earth year, which is, apparently, the same as a Standard year.

.bdobd.

Spock felt that his confusion at Jim's sudden change in attitude was understandable.

"What?"

Jim, however, seemed to find it amusing. "Do you want to hear about Menthe?"

Spock nodded sharply and settled in for an extended explanation.

"Right. Menthe. Sixth Captain in the Fleet. Been missing for a few months. No one can get in contact with him. The only reason I found out about it was that the Admirals were all squabbling over what supplies to send to what Captain. Remember that whole thing with Captain Nimeav and the comms upgrades? How Calta wouldn't file her papers for her? It wouldn't've been so freaky if there was enough stuff for everyone."

Kirk sighed and leaned back in his chair. "We're lucky: We've got Scotty, who can whip up just about anything. But there's only about three copies of everything, and there are – were – six of us.

"So when Barnett told Nimeav about Calta not filing her papers, she called me and asked about Pike and my papers. I said I hadn't been having any trouble. She went and looked at all the different filings, and she –,"

"Found major differences between them. You told me of this."

"… Sorta, yeah. But there wasn't any poker involved. And they weren't differen_ces_, it was just the one big one: In some versions, Menthe had been given his allotment of supplies. In others, he wasn't mentioned at all. The reason we got our stuff so fast was that Pike was one of the ones who wrote Menthe out of the equation. A lot of our replicators were actually supposed to go to the Excalibur II.

"Anyway, so Nimeav, Nimeret, Tranya, and I started poking around for stuff on Menthe."

"What of Captain Topos?"

"He thought the whole thing was a waste of time. He didn't report us or anything, but he didn't help, either. I can't say that I blame him.

"Menthe was last _seen_ on Earth. That's what everyone in the news is going to start reporting soon, that he disappeared on Earth. But he was last _recorded_ around Vulcan. I went to Prime –,"

Spock stiffened at this. He could easily envision this scenario unfolding – it was certainly more understandable than the one that Jim had previously described, which involved planting fake evidence on an innocent party – but his alternate had mentioned nothing of his communications with the Captain.

Jim winced. "I know, I know, I'm really sorry. I had Prime take our reports to T'Pau and Sarek so that they could present them to the Federation Council. The whole communications blowout happened two days before they could do it. So they had to come in person. Those other PADDs that I gave him were just the confirmation forms that said the presentation didn't actually take place.

"T'Pau met me at the Tellaritian dock –,"

"What do the Orions have to do with this?"

"What?" Jim looked genuinely confused. Spock was not fooled.

"T'Pau repeatedly questioned me on my knowledge of Orion relations. If she was at the dock to meet with you, than she most likely was referencing something you had told her."

Jim squirmed. "Well… Tranya… Tranya's Orion, right?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Affirmative."

"Right. First one ever. So, she comes to us – Vulcans and I – to say that she found a record in _Orion_ that listed Menthe landing. It came _after_ the Vulcan record. For some reason, the information didn't make it to Memory Alpha."

"What does T'Pau know of our involvements within the Cardassian government?"

"Not much." Jim turned a bit to pick up a stylus that was on his desk. He began to worry it. "I've been putting off talking to them. I can't have them realizing that Menthe's missing. We've got so few ships already."

"What of the Cardassian captain? I have not been communicating with them either; I had believed you to be doing so."

Jim sighed. "I really doubt she's alive, at this point. I'd be _stunned_ if she was, actually. I'm gonna try to reestablish contact after Sarek can get the presentation to the Council in San Francisco."

"San Francisco? The Council is not in San Francisco."

Jim blinked at him and stopped playing with the pen. "What are you talking about? The Council is in San Francisco. That's where it lives."

"Unless there is a major communications breakdown, and they are forced to move to a starship to be able to broadcast."

"Oh." He had clearly never considered this. "Well… Shit. Um."

"I could have assisted earlier, had you informed me of such."

Jim went back to worrying the pen. "Well, yeah…"

"Why did you not do so?"

The human apparently recognized what Spock meant. "It's not that I _wanted_ to keep it a secret! I still don't know where Menthe is, and Nestly's acting weird, and there were cameras _everywhere._ And, I mean, you are a _lot_ of things, Spock, but public relations guru you are not."

Spock could only nod in agreement. "Yes. However, had I known of the situation before we landed, I would have been able to set up an emergency joint address to the Council. Now, they are all on Earth, and it will be much more complex."

"Humm. Can you do it?"

"Affirmative. It will take some time, though, and all of the Councilpeople will need to be readily accessible."

Jim stared contemplatively at his hands. "The anniversary of the Narada attack is coming up. We could invite them all back here to say their speeches. They can't really refuse us that; we are the Enterprise."

"Jim, we are exactly one week away from the anniversary. I do not believe that the Councilpeople will agree to spend more time on the ship than absolutely necessary."

"What if we do the address a couple days before the anniversary? That way, they'll be here in time, and we can even do an actual ceremony."

Spock shifted slightly. "I am uncertain to how the survivors will react to such a display. The attack hit Vulcan the hardest, and our year is three months longer than yours."

Jim sighed. "Yeah. I know. But the politicians have to do _something_ to honor it, and they'll get a lot of shit if they don't do it using Standard time.

"I don't agree with it, either, but we've got to find this ship. Can we do an empty ceremony now, and then to a real one on the real anniversary? I'm really sorry to have to ask you to do this, but I just don't see any other way."

"I, also, cannot find a viable alternative." Spock paused to think of the reaction on the colony. "May I warn my father of the upcoming event?"

"Yes, that'd be fine. If he could tell T'Pau, actually, that'd be great." Jim seemed relieved that he had not protested farther.

Spock nodded. "If you could inform my alternate self…"

"No problem." The blonde grinned. "I still don't know why you hate him so much; he's a sweetheart."

"He has a knack for turning your attention completely away from me at inopportune moments."

Jim looked stunned, and then utterly amused. "You're _jealous!_"

"I am _not_. I am concerned."

Jim sprawled languidly in his chair. "_Oh?_"

"Yes."

"What about? He's not going to replace you, you know."

Actually, that had been his most pressing concern. "… Yes."

The blonde's eyes widened, and he laughed. "_Spock_." He leaned forward. "You're _you._ No one can take that away. If I'd wanted someone else for my first officer or my best friend or whatever, I wouldn't've accepted your application, and we wouldn't be playing chess, and we wouldn't be having this conversation! Stop worrying!"

Spock blinked.

Jim looked rather helplessly at him. "Seriously? It's been that bad?"

He stood from the chair and seated himself next to Spock on the bed. The human flung an arm around Spock's shocked shoulders.

"You know," Jim began conversationally, "stress is one of the foremost issues affecting Federation citizens today."

Spock didn't answer. He was distracted by the head that had planted itself on his upper arm.

He remembered suddenly that he had never completed his meditation cycles devoted to the captain's motivations towards him. He made to stand, but Jim settled his other hand on Spock's previously unoccupied shoulder and pushed, lightly.

"Stay."

Spock sat.

He considered the debate he had had with himself on the bed weeks ago.

He twined an arm slowly around Jim's waist.

The blonde was clearly surprised, but did not make to move him. Spock could feel his face redden through his uniform shirt.

They stayed in that position for five point three minutes exactly, until Jim's comm unit beeped that there was an incoming call for the captain.

Spock did meditate, later. He did not find very many answers.

.bdobd.

All the next day, Jim and Spock went on a kamikaze mission to talk to every single Councilperson themselves and invite them to the Enterprise for the anniversary. This was made exponentially more difficult than it had any reason to be, because, with the comms crash, no one had office comm numbers any more. Jim had to appropriate ten of Uhura's best to get the private numbers of these people, who were probably the only people in the Fed right now who had the money to afford the channel service.

Uhura and Chekov were in charge of the _actual_ ceremony, while Bones and Giotto got stuck with setting up Plague Prep and security scans _again_. Sulu was with the Crew At Large, helping organize decorations. Scotty had basically locked himself in the bottom of the ship and told everyone to stay the hell away from his engine room.

With the crew kept busy following Uhura's orders, no one was monitoring the outgoing frequencies. Spock was able to have a pretty good discussion with a Cardassian senator (or at least, their version of a senator) on the mainscreen before ducking into his quarters to tell his father about the preparations.

Sarek took it very well, all things considered. The Vulcans had expected something like this for a while, and they were purportedly relieved to finally get it over with. Jim wasn't sure he believed that, but whatever.

Sarek himself couldn't actually come – he'd gotten a shuttle back to the colony an hour after they'd docked in Paris. Prime would be there, though, and after Jim got up the courage to call T'Panya and Nowmi, they'd most likely attend as well.

Days Two and Three were lots of running around looking for boxes of strange things in odd places. The Admirals arrived, as did about ten Councilpeople, with T'Panya bobbing in their wake, looking blissful. Jim stayed away from her.

Day Four was an influx of people who didn't really want to be on the ship. They wrecked general misery until an irritated Hivash told them to 'Fuck off,' at which point the majority retired sulkily to their rooms. Those who did not were treated to the quickly silenced cheers of an exuberant population of twenty-somethings.

When the Sulkers heard of this, they vowed (loudly, and to great fanfare) to not talk to the Admiralty until they got an apology. Nowmi covered this on that evening's show with understandable glee. As the presentation set for Day Five had to be to a _joint_ session of the Council – which included the Admiralty – furious planning was done all through the night of Day Four.

Around 0200 hours of Day Five, an extremely determined group of Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, Bones, and Giotto-with-Scotty-on-speakerphone came to Jim's quarters to demand an explanation.

Jim and Spock then got to tell a group of increasingly smug people about how the Federation had, basically, _misplaced_ over eight hundred people. All said that they has suspected _something_ was up.

Uhura, in return, helped them figure out how to get a group of ornery politicians to _talk_ to each other. Giotto woke his men up and had the false wall put in.

1000 hours, and all of the visitors were herded into the modified mess hall. Most did not recognize the room, and didn't notice the changes made: the chamber had been split neatly in half by a temporary wall. It'd been difficult to find one big enough for the cavernous ceiling, but Giotto's men were awesome and had figured it out.

Nowmi, T'Panya, Stevens, and Prime were pulled aside by Sulu, who told them not to panic, and to start running the cameras the minute the doors closed.

The Councilpeople who were the most irritating were seated farthest from their side of the wall. The Admiralty, and the ones that were the most argumentive, were herded into the second half of the room and told that they were going to be doing this rehearsal in two parts, and that the room would be vacated when they were finished.

The rehearsal for the ceremony started at 1030 hours, and went straight through 1500 hours into 1547. People were restless.

AT 1553, the doors to the mess hall were locked. The Admiralty's side noticed first.

At 1600, the false wall collapsed, as Scotty'd said it would.

The two sides of the room froze, looked at each other, checked the layout of the chairs, and blew their respective tops.

.bdobd.

Jim straddled the hole that divided the stage into halves. Security had been forced to take a chunk out of the structure to get the divider to snap into place. He crossed his arms and began to orate.

"Hello, everyone!" he shouted. There was a general hissing noise from the (literally) captive audience.

"I am Captain Kirk, as you well know. Starfleet has been trying unsuccessfully for months, now, to present information on the disappearance of Captain Menthe of the Excalibur II. Unfortunately, with the communications crash, we haven't been able to do so until now.

"We _were_ going to have T'Pau and Sarek, of the House of Surak, of Vulcan II, present, but unfortunately they are already busy with colony business. There's been some issue with the housing, there, and they were needed immediately.

"This means that unless there is a volunteer to present, First Officer Spock and I will be forced to do it."

This, they had only realized this last night. Uhura and Co. and tried to find an alternative, but there was no use: if an Admiral didn't step up to the plate, Jim and Spock were the only people who were allowed to say anything.

And with Archer old and Calta and Neslty bitching and Hivash in a funk and everyone else not really keen on public speaking in general…

"No one?" Kirk peered pointedly towards the Admiralty's section. There was much adverting-of-the-eyes.

Kirk sighed. "Fine. But you're doing the coda." He motioned for Spock to mount the stage.

Uhura dropped the big holoscreen behind them, and Spock signaled for the first slide.

Technology had come a long way in the past couple centuries, but the slide show had never gone out of style within the military.

There was a timeline on the screen. Hopefully, that was the only audio-visual aid they'd really need.

"Right! Douglas Menthe was given the captaincy of the Excalibur II sixteen days after the Narada Incident. He disappeared three months ago. He was last reported in Orion space, however, there _is_ a potential sighting of the Excalibur – not Menthe, but the ship itself – near the Cardassian border. The Excalibur's last mission was with a contested Federation/Klingon outpost near the Klingon border. Menthe _himself_ was last seen on Orion Prime."

The bit with the Cardassians was the only new information Kirk and Spock had found within the slide show. "Now, part of the Admiralty appears to thing Menthe is alive but hostage, and part seems to believe him dead." Kirk turned from the screen to stare, irritated, at the Admiralty. "Instead of _figuring it out_, they've just been arguing with themselves."

Someone from the Admiral's area shouted, "Hey!" but no one backed her up. Hivash was now glaring at Kirk with unconcealed loathing.

"Starfleet needs Council approval to go ahead and begin a search-and-rescue operation to find Menthe and his crew of eight hundred and thirty." Kirk stuck his thumbs in his belt loops and raised his eyebrows. "Any questions?"

An Andorian man raised his hand. "Is not the Federation President supposed to preside over meetings of the Council?"

Spock moved to answer. "That is generally correct. In special circumstances, however, that is not required."

"How are we to be certain that this is indeed a 'special circumstance'?"

"I talked to President McLaren the day we landed," Kirk added, "and he said to go ahead and present."

Jim could see Spock withholding his surprise. He'd never gotten around to telling him what he'd been doing inside the Palais.

"Do you have proof?" the Andorian asked.

"How is he supposed to get that?" someone in the Admiralty's half asked. They clearly hated whoever the guy was. "You are not allowed to record inside the Palais unless you are a syndicated news operation."

"Why is that again?" someone wondered aloud.

"So that we don't have somebody going in and having a conversation with the President, recording it, and then releasing it," Nowmi answered.

The questions had died a quick and painful death. "I want the Admiralty's coda!" a Tellaritian someone demanded.

The admirals all made a great show of heaving themselves out of their seats, with the exceptions of Pike and Archer, who briskly trotted over to the stage. Spock went and gave Archer a boost; the man was one hundred and forty-six, and his lower body wasn't very strong any more.

The other six admirals, having just been shown up by a man who was almost two hundred and a human who'd just had major nerve damage, sped up and mounted the stage.

Spock motioned for Security to bring out chairs.

Archer plopped himself in the middle, which had the lovely effect of pissing Barnett off. The former captain's voice had gone raspy over the past century, but he was still perfectly clear.

"I will be leading this," he announced. Barnett sulked. Jim danced a bit, inside.

"The Admiralty knew of Menthe's disappearance the day after it happened. We also knew that a public announcement would only cause panic and disorder. We informed the President, and he agreed with out assessment. We decided to keep the issue from the rest of the Captaincy so as to keep moral high.

"We did not take into consideration the truly phenomenal captains that we have with us now," Archer said with a fond smile. Jim did a bit more dancing: Archer had always been a really great guy, and was always ready to praise.

"Normally, the issue would not have been discovered until we announced it. Our captains are much more resourceful than usual, and they managed to do quite a bit of quality investigation on their own before coming to us with their concerns.

"The disparities in our beliefs on the matter," here, he nodded to his left and right, indicating the other admirals, "comes from differences in our personal experiences involving hostage situations. I speak only for myself, but I believe that instigating a search now would not be harmful. I know that Commodore Barnett disagrees."

Barnett pounced on the offered opening. "I do. Menthe and his ship have been gone for months. The probability of him being found alive is low."

Jim saw Spock withhold his own, more exact calculations.

"I'm also concerned about who is actually going to be _doing_ the searching. We only have five active ships right now. We're _supposed_ to have _twelve_. Who can we spare? I don't think anyone, right now."

"But there are over eight hundred people missing," Nestly broke in. "We can't just _leave _them."

Calta rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. You're just saying that because you liked Menthe personally."

Everyone in the room gaped as one.

Calta backtracked furiously. "I mean, your motivations are all screwy. I think we should look for the crew. But that man was stupid enough to get hundreds of really good people in a lot of trouble. He's probably already dead as it is. Why not just send a couple spaceships off to the Cardassian border? The Orions will report anything about Menthe for us, right?"

He looked out to the Orion Councilpeople, who all nodded agreeably.

Archer rolled his eyes. "The Orion central government has already admitted to being unable to control what happens in the Syndicate area. What if Menthe's there? We have to go and check."

"No we don't," Calta insisted. "The guy's as good as dead! If his ship's in _one _part of the galaxy and _he's_ in a _different_ bit, chances are that he's dead and his ship's been stolen! I don't want to deal with a bunch of raiders messing around on a Constitution class starship!"

There were mutterings of agreement from the Council. None of them had any idea what the fuck was going on, and Calta was a good speaker, even if he hated doing it.

One of the Orion delegates moved to speak. "What of this? Our government may begin an inquiry into the captain. Though we are not a large presence in our Syndicate areas, we do have communication with them. Then, Starfleet may concern themselves with the ship near Cardassia."

"That sounds good to me," Pike said with a shrug. He looked over to Spock and Jim. "You guys are in the field. That sound viable?"

"I do not envision any failures occurring," Spock answered slowly.

"Whatever answer we get, can we check it out ourselves?" Jim asked. "It'd be bad if we just went on someone else's word and left the poor guy to rot in some backwater."

Hivash nodded. "I agree with that."

R'Vish looked worried. "I'm still concerned about going and poking around the Cardassian border a ship short. Maybe it's best to do the Orion thing first, see if we can get Menthe out, and then go to the border. We can't afford another war right now." 

"The Cardassians aren't either," Kirk put in carefully.

Archer picked up on the implications first. "And you know that _how?_"

Jim squirmed slightly. "There was a Cardassian woman we turned over about six months ago, and –,"

Pike exploded. "God _damn_ it Kirk, I _told_ you not to talk to them!"

Archer turned to Pike with considerable malice. "You knew about one of our captains talking to the _Cardassian Empire_ and you _didn't tell us?_"

"I thought we agreed that it was a terrible idea and not to do it!" Pike spluttered, glaring at Kirk.

"She doesn't deserve to die, Admiral," Kirk insisted, digging in for the long haul. "And those connections can come in pretty damn handy right now. Let me talk to them for you."

"What do you mean, the Cardassians won't fight?" a Tellarite asked. "They're almost as bad as the Klingons!"

"Who are, at the moment, determined to destroy Cardassia's capitol planet," Spock said. "They told us of this when they retrieved us from Planet 41 Beta."

"Planet – Gods, man, that was almost a year ago!" Bolim screeched. "What the hell were you thinking, going on for a year with the Empire behind our backs!"

Kirk could see Spock moving to take the blame, so he preformed a sweeping interception. "I knew that they were in trouble, and they asked for our help when the Klingons attacked. But we never set up the commission to offer it. I figured that _someone_ should keep _talking_ to our _neighbors_."

"You sure they won't attack?" R'Vish asked suddenly.

"Pretty sure, yeah."

"It would not be in their best interest to do so."

"Fine," Archer declared. "Kirk, Spock you two go and figure out what's up with this border sighting. Get your Communications chief to call Aneas Topos – you remember him, right?"

Kirk nodded. "Yes, sir, he was on the ship with us." He furrowed his brow. "He wanted to get a joint meeting with the Commander and myself, but we could never find the time."

"Understandable, you were very busy," Barnett said, trying to assert himself.

Archer didn't look as convinced. "That's not good. Get Topos first, actually. Have him start poking about." He turned out towards the Orion Councilpeople. "And you bunch, when you get to your capitol planet, help him. He'll need a bit."

"Can we get shuttles to the border?" Nestly asked.

Calta looked like he was about to say something that'd piss everyone off, so Kirk jumped in with, "I don't think that'd be a good idea. The Cardassians are under a lot of stress. They won't start a war now, but they'll definitely fire if they think they can get away with it. Let my and my first officer talk to them first."

Nestly nodded agreeably, and Calta subsided.

"Anything else?" Pike asked.

The Admiralty turned expectantly towards the Council, who all did a collective shrug.

"Good," Archer nodded. "Dismissed. Now, Kirk," he continued with a grin, "if you could unlock those doors…"

.bdobd.


	16. An Orion Issue

A/N: Oi. This one was a pain. But it's here, finally. The last bit of it directly references chapter 4 of Without Direction.

Big shout out to Ex_Astris_Scientia for her amazing review!

Loquacious: endlessly talkative in a boring way. Someone who natters.

I've started italicizing the names of the ships. Yes, thank you. I_ know_ I'm lazy.

.bdobd.

Nowmi's bit on the Menthe Meeting was widely regarded as, if not the _best_ reporting of the year, at least the most _enjoyable _segment of the season.

The Public loved seeing their government _do_ shit, as a general rule, and to see them be whipped into shape by The Great Captain Kirk. _Well._

It hadn't hurt that, on the day of the Vulcan Remembrance – which didn't have a lot to do with _Vulcans_, per say, but no one really said anything about that – the comms problem was fixed.

Valpac had _finally _fixed the communications issue that'd plagued the Federation for the past months. And the first thing that the company had streamed to all of their holoscreens was the ceremony that the _Enterprise_ had hosted in memory of those lost in the Narada Incident.

.bdobd.

After the ceremony, the _Enterprise_ crew had a much harder time of it. While The Public was celebrating Captain Kirk's sound spanking of The Establishment, The Establishment, who actually _ran things _– something often forgotten in the heat of the moment – were busy sulking and making life miserable for Jim and his ship.

And the Orions were just flat out _pissed._ While their Council representatives seemed to have remembered that the Federation had rights to its own data, Orion Prime had worked itself into a merry fit over how the 'Capitol's Media' had once again thrown them all under the bus.

Which was, well, sort of true. No one in Earth's part of the Alpha Quadrant really _liked_ Orion. They sort of tolerated them, until they didn't, and everyone lost their minds over the Syndicate again.

Jim pondered all of this while the Orion ambassador standing in his doorway nattered on.

"… And," the man continued angrily, almost panting, "I demand an audience!"

Jim gestured to the empty hallway with his toothbrush. Most of the crew had gone back into Paris for the four days it'd take them to get clearance to go to the Cardassian border.

"Well, go ahead."

The Orion man looked offended. "Such is not a proper reflection of my status within the Federation!"

"Do I look like I care?"

The Orion took in the human's soapy hair and foamed mouth. "Nevertheless!" He continued undeterred, "I shall have an audience!"

"Seeing as you're in the middle of one right now, it'd be kind of hard for you not to."

Some spluttering. "A _true_ audience!"

Jim sighed and stood on his toes to yell across the hallway. "Yo! Spock!"

Spock poked his head out of his door. "Yes, Captain?"

"Can we have an audience with this guy?"

"It is technically feasible, yes."

Jim snorted. "I mean, are you in the middle of something important?"

Spock blinked at him. "Is not an audience of top priority?"

"Well, _usually_."

The green ambassador spluttered some more. Spock raised a brow at him. "I shall come."

Spock's door shut, and there was an awkward moment between Jim and the Orion where they both tried _really, really hard_ not to read some _serious_ sexual subtext into that last comment. They weren't very successful.

"Is there some issue?"

It was nice seeing someone _else_ leap out of their skin for a change. Jim had been able to see Spock coming, but the ambassador'd been turned the wrong way. "No, no, not at all," Jim answered cheerfully. "C'mon, I think rec room four-and-three-quarters is open."

Both officers started purposefully down the hall. The ambassador trailed slightly.

"Wait a moment. Three quarters?"

The officers kept walking.

.bdobd.

Sar of Orion was a loquacious man. He spoke constantly throughout the entire trip to rec room four-and-three-quarters. Upon arrival, he then had to be convinced to talk.

Finally, the captain managed to cajole him into revealing his intentions.

"I have," he began pompously, "a great secret to tell you."

Spock raised his eyebrow. The captain's expression flattened, and he gestured grandly. "_Well?_"

Sar refused to be rushed. He had the leaders of the Federation's flagship under his temporary control, something he was not yet willing to give up. "It is about the late Ambassador Topos."

"Uh huh."

The captain sounded extraordinarily bored. Spock was more concerned with the exact wording of Sar's statement. "The _late_ Ambassador Topos?"

Kirk attempted to appear aloof, but it was clear to Spock that he found the idea disturbing. Sar nodded gravely. "We found him in a hotel room on Prime. We are to be completing the autopsy soon."

"What? No you're not," Kirk said indignantly. "He's ours to look at. You don't get him."

Sar blinked innocently. "But we found him –,"

"It doesn't matter who found him," the captain insisted. "He's our employee who was killed on the job. We do the autopsy. Check your constitution; it's in there."

"But the government may have already proceeded –,"

Kirk shot to his feet. "Commander, open a channel to the _Salient_. I need to talk to Captain Tranya _now._"

Spock nodded, "Yes, Captain," and went to the comm unit set into the opposite wall.

"Such is not necessary!" Sar said, loudly. "We have very capable –,"

"Captain Tranya is on channel 4, sir," Spock interrupted.

The captain jogged from his previous place opposite Sar to the comm unit. "Tranya!"

"Kirk! What'd'ya need?"

The captain and Captain Tranya were known to have a very good working relationship. Whether or not this stemmed from an equally… close… personal relationship was a topic of much discussion amongst the majority of the Communications division. Spock had attempted, numerous times, to dam the almost eternal flow of gossip that sprang from the Communications staff, but had given up two months into the mission. He had reported such to the captain, who had simply laughed and told him not to concern himself with such trivial matters.

"I've got an ambassador here," the captain answered, "and he says the Orions have got Aneas Topos's body, and they're going to autopsy it."

"Fucker!" Tranya swore, "God _fucking_ damn it, I _knew _they'd try this kind of shit!" The Orion woman turned away from her comm pickup to shout a command to someone on her bridge. "Do you know which ambassador it is?"

"Um. Spock –,"

"It is Ambassador Sar, Captain," Spock said into the comm.

"Let 'im on."

Tranya's voice was filled with violent intent. Sar was shaking his head vigorously in the negative. The captain seemed to take pleasure in dragging the quietly protesting ambassador over to the wall. "He's here."

Tranya _shrieked_ something in Orion.

Sar… there was a Terran word, 'gibber' that Spock had never before had the opportunity to use. He attempted a shaky reply, but the infuriated woman cut him off before he could finish.

She yelled something that Spock recognized as the Orion approximation of the Japanese word 'baka', which the Oroins had adopted during their First Contact with Earth.

The ambassador appeared to be near tears. Tranya switched to Standard. "There!" She said chipperly. "It's all figured out. The _Enterprise_ needs to swing by and get the body, though, we haven't got –,"

"You weren't able to get that Inspector, that's right," Jim said sympathetically. "I'll see what I can do. You may wind up with Nimeav, though. Nimeret's over with the shuttles at the Klingon border."

"Oh, that's right," Tranya mused contemplatively. The two captains appeared to have agreed, with no verbal dialogue, to simply ignore the still-whimpering ambassador that was slumped over Kirk's boots.

"Well, she should be fine. Nimeav's nice."

"Yeah, she's a sweetheart. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye Kirk! Have fun over with the Cardassians!"

Jim snorted. "Yeah, it'll be a blast."

Tranya laughed, and then cut the connection.

Kirk was grinning as he ended the channel, and as he peered down at the ambassador at his feet. "Well, what should we do with you?" he asked no one in particular.

"You could let me go," Sar suggested meekly.

Kirk appeared to consider this. "I _could_." He turned to Spock. "What is your suggestion, Commander?"

Spock assumed parade rest. "Under normal circumstances, I would recommend placing the ambassador in custody until he could be convinced to explain why he did not inform us of Ambassador Topos's unfortunate death sooner.

"However, we are still undergoing some maintenance. The French mechanics apparently did not replace the final malfunctioning warp container, and Engineer Scott has been attempting to repair the remaining damage. I do not know if the brig is currently capable of holding prisoners."

Sar stiffened with indignation at the statement, but then seemed to remember his circumstances and settled down. He had been party to a plan to keep the Ambassador's body in Orion custody for far longer than legal, and had apparently not attempted to convince his government otherwise.

Kirk nodded contemplatively. "Very well." He looked down at Sar again. "You: go. I don't want you here any more. I need to do work, and you're going to get in my way. You withheld important information from me for an unknown amount of time, and you'll be punished. _Off_ of the _Enterprise._"

Sar nodded meekly again and scuttled away.

James waited until the footsteps had receded before slumping into a chair and groaning into his hands.

Spock walked over and laid a cautious hand on the human's shoulder. "Indeed."

"Fuck."

"I would not put it in quite _those_ terms…"

Jim laughed shortly before sobering abruptly. "_Damn_ it, Spock. Topos is going to be _crushed_. He really liked his dad."

"They were known to have a positive relationship."

"You know, the guy knew my father before he was married? When I joined the Fleet, he tracked me down and told be about the time Dad rewired his speakers so that the volume control didn't work from his room. Dad woke him up with Bach three times in a row at two o'clock in the morning before he figured out who was both geeky _and_ evil enough to do it."

Spock had not expected such a close relationship between the two men. The captain had repeatedly denied the Ambassador an audience with the two of them in attendance.

Something very dramatic must have occurred in between Jim's Academy years and now. For Jim, this would not be unusual. He moved his hand to the back of Jim's neck and rubbed gently. "I am sorry for your loss."

Jim sighed deeply. "I guess I have to call Topos now, huh."

"It may be wise. Would you like me to send him a text message?"

"No. He's stubborn."

James gently brushed Spock's hand off of his back, heaved himself to his feet, and walked slowly over to the comm unit.

"Perhaps it would be better to do such in your private quarters?"

Jim looked to him with clear incomprehension. Spock pointed to the security camera.

"Oh. Yeah. Good idea." The Security forces of the _Enterprise_ were professional, but this was not a conversation that they needed to overhear.

Jim sighed again and trudged over to a lift. Spock, who felt rather helpless, followed quietly.

The lift started and Jim stumbled slightly. He caught himself, turned to Spock, buried his head in his first officer's shoulder and groaned mightily. "I'm _so_ not looking forward to this."

The Vulcan was not sure of the proper etiquette surrounding such a statement. He rested his hands on the blonde's waist. "… I am unsure as to what a proper answer would contain."

Jim laughed lightly. "There isn't any, really." He squished his nose deeper into Spock's uniform shirt. "You smell nice."

This, also, was not a topic that his diplomatically trained father had ever brought up. "… Thank you?"

He felt Jim grin against his collarbones. The lift shuddered to a halt, and the human swayed away before the doors opened onto the hallway.

James sat himself in front of his personal comm unit. He slumped slightly, then straightened his back and typed in Captain Topos's personal contact code.

The man's rather surprised face filled the screen. He looked tired and disheveled. He was currently orbiting Tellar, which had a very different time zone than the Standard time the _Enterprise_ and the _Salient_ were currently using.

"Kirk?" Topos peered tiredly at his chronometer. "What is it? It's 0130 hours here."

"I know, I'm so sorry," James said, shoulders hunching.

"What?" Topos peered at him curiously. "It's alright, you're just usually really good about those little things like that. What's going on?"

"Perseus, I just had a meeting with Ambassador Sar, from Orion… The Orions found your father's body yesterday."

Captain Topos looked uncomprehendingly at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"They found him, and Tranya's making sure that we get the cadaver first so that we do the autopsy, and –,"

"What? No," Topos narrowed his eyes, "I mean, go back to the 'body' bit. I'm the next of kin. He can't just be _dead_."

Jim had avoided that word up until this point. He winced. "Perseus, I don't know much more than what I've just told you. It sounds like your dad died in his sleep, but we don't –,"

"That's not _possible_," Topos insisted. "I'm the next of kin. I would've been told."

"Look, I don't think they were planning on telling _anybody_ about this. I'm not even sure why _Sar_ told me. But he did, and now we're going to get the body."

"No, you're not." Topos was not pleased, and was not absorbing anything Jim was trying to say.

"Yes, we _are_. I don't know what else I'm supposed to tell you to get you to believe me –!"

"I _just talked to him!_ He's not _dead!_"

"From what I know, he is." Jim ran his hands through his hair. "Perseus, seriously, I wouldn't joke about this. You _know_ I wouldn't joke about this. Your dad was a _great guy_. Hell, I didn't even _have_ a father. I wouldn't just go around terrifying someone about this for shits and giggles; this is serious!"

Topos rolled his eyes. "Talk to you later Kirk."

"No, you don't –!"

Topos cut the connection.

.bdobd.

Jim didn't move for a while.

Spock walked carefully towards him. He'd been taking care to stay out of the comm's visual range.

The Vulcan laid a hand on Jim's shoulder. "… I am rather at a loss. I do not know of any phrase that you would find comforting at this time."

Jim let his head fall to the side so that it was supported on Spock's forearm. "Yeah. I'm not sure either."

He felt his stomach give an ominous rattle and made a dash for the bathroom. Spock followed him in. He sat next to the nauseous human for a good ten minutes before finally asking:

"James? Are you ill?"

Jim was bent double over the toilet in preparation. "Just a bit. I'll be fine."

Spock settled so that his hip was pressed against Jim's. "Should I call Doctor McCoy? Does he know of this?"

"I'm _fine_."

He could feel Spock raise an eyebrow. "My observations do not support your hypothesis."

Jim tried sitting straighter to deliver a sarcastic comment, but quickly decided that that was a very bad idea. Spock stood carefully, making sure not to jar him. Jim could hear him calling Bones.

.bdobd.

McCoy was not at all pleased.

"For _how _long?"

Jim groaned and curled in upon himself. He had not moved from his spot on the floor even while complaining about the doctor's 'prodding' at his abdomen. "You remember that show that Nowmi did on that thing in the hallway?"

McCoy looked to Spock with clear confusion. Spock did not know any more than the doctor did, at this point. "What kind of 'thing'?" the human asked.

"The argument that I had, with all of the diplomats, when Sulu told them about the engines?"

McCoy gaped hugely. "That –! That was _weeks_ ago! You've been throwing up for _weeks_ and you didn't tell me?"

Jim made a variety of inconclusive noises. McCoy spluttered. "You were _in sickbay!_ You were _in sickbay_ when those people were here and you didn't say _anything?_ Damn it, when I ask about anything unusual I mean shit like this!"

Spock knelt on Jim's other side and put an arm around his waist. He would most likely become more ill if he were stressed. Jim leaned into the hold. "It's not that big a deal," he rasped. "It's just stress. I'll be fine."

McCoy sighed with clear irritation and resumed his manual inspection. "We're going to the Cardassian border; we can't have you running to the bathroom every time you feel _stressed!_ This isn't normal for you – how long have you been losing weight?"

The doctor's tone had turned to suspicion. Spock stiffened at put a hand to Kirk's lower back. It was true – his ribs were _slightly_ easier to count now than they were three months ago.

"Um." Jim seemed to have realized the severity of his actions. "I wouldn't say _losing _weight…"

"Oh? What would you call it then?"

"Not _gaining_ any. Usually I flux between one-fifty and one-fifty-five, but I've stayed at about one-forty for a while now."

"Jim, one-forty's not _good_ for someone who's muscular." McCoy had retrieved his tricorder from his back pocket and was now scanning the rather obstinate human. "The BMI chart doesn't factor excessive muscle mass in. I don't know how we didn't pick up on this when you were in earlier; this is really weird."

"Doctor McCoy, when did you last calibrate the bio-beds?" Spock asked suddenly.

McCoy didn't look at him, but it was clear he had his attention. "Right before the Omicron Theta fiasco. Why?"

"Do you remember when Jim had to live at Starbase XI? It was for a short time, while he was the First Chair of the Base." McCoy was now staring at the back of Jim's head with dawning horror. Jim had set his shoulders, as if in preparation for the imminent explosion.

McCoy shot up. "_Damn_ it! I_ knew_ this would happen!" The infuriated man began to pace the very short length of the bathroom. "Those _goddamned _Base doctors they don't know a cut from a fucking _cadaver_; I _knew_ it; I _knew_ it; I _knew _this would happen!"

McCoy stomped into the bedroom and contacted Sickbay, ordering a room prepared for the captain immediately. Jim was silent.

Spock settled his chin on Jim's shoulder. The blonde looked at him from the corner of one eye and grinned wanly. Spock shifted closer and said nothing.

.bdobd.

It only took Bones ten minutes to figure out what had happened. Jim'd gotten a virus on Base XI – like Bones had said he would – and it'd lain pretty dormant for a while. The bio beds were regularly updated with everyone's readings, and the virus had just been incorporated into Jim's profile. That was why the beds hadn't alerted anyone to the fact that his stomach lining was teeming with an infectious disease.

To say Bones was _angry_ about this was like saying that the Pacific Ocean was 'a bit damp'. He cursed at Jim, at Tishri, at the Base, at Jim's mother, at the maker of the beds, and at Nurse Chapel, who had given him a Look.

Bones apologized to Nurse Chapel.

Through all of this, Spock stood stoically by the bed, as if he didn't have a million better things to be doing with his time.

When Bones finally left the room to go synthesize an antiviral, Jim smiled weakly at the Vulcan. "You don't _have_ to stay here, you know."

"Affirmative."

Jim winced. When Bones was mad, he yelled; when Spock was mad, he went formal. "I don't _want_ to be sick," he pointed out.

"Indeed. You also, apparently, do not want to be treated for any illnesses."

"That's not _quite_ true," Jim said reasonably. "I didn't think it was that serious, that's all."

Spock finally looked him in the eye. "Have I been deficient in some manner?"

Jim blinked. "What?"

"You clearly feel that you cannot trust me. What have I done wrongly?"

Jim blinked some more. "… That's not true. I trust you with a lot of stuff."

"Such as?"

"Um." That was a good question, actually. "I told you about Menthe before anyone else."

"That was due solely to T'Panya's reporting on the matter. Had I not accidently revealed what I had known, you would have been quite content to leave me ignorant of all proceedings."

"I wasn't _content!_ I _wanted_ to tell you."

"But you did not, because you do not trust me."

"That's not _true!_"

"I have seen no proof." Spock sounded almost sad.

"I told you about Tarsus," Jim said. "It took _weeks_ for Bones to drag that one out of me, and he needed a good gallon of bourbon to finally do it."

"It took _weeks_ for _I_ to be granted that information," Spock argued, much too reasonably. "And you were hardly in a sound mental state."

Jim spluttered indignantly. Bones came in, and he thought Spock would drop the subject, but the persistent bastard kept right on going.

"You had just been informed of the promotions of your mother, Madam Tishri, and Miss Arya, which all had taken place through extremely dubious channels of reason. And Thomas Leighton had only just been sentenced to prison."

"What're you two bitching about now?" Bones asked with obvious disinterest.

"Spock says I don't trust him!"

"Well, ya don't," Bones responded distractedly. He was exchanging one bag of clear fluid for another, different bag of clear fluid.

Jim spluttered some more. "That's not true!"

"Yes it is."

"It is –!"

Bones pinned him with The Look. Jim subsided.

"Don't move around too much. That'll take two hours to drain," Bones pointed at the bag with his thumb, "and I don't want you rattling it around. Understand?"

"Yessir," Jim said with a sarcastic salute. Bones rolled his eyes and looked to Spock with clear sympathy.

"He's been doing a lot. Scrambles his brain."

Spock's left eyebrow rose regally. Bones snorted and left. Jim sighed. "One of us needs to tell Bones about Aneas."

Spock nodded and left to track down McCoy.

Jim settled in for a long and uncomfortable two hours.

.bdobd.


	17. Recovery

A/N: This one would _not_ be written. Bragh. But, now, it is done, yes?

OMG, did you hear about the North Korea thing? The country – not one person, but the entire freaking country – joined Facebook as 'Male seeking Other Men'. I cried laughing.

_Tu se petakov._: Vulcan for 'You are cute.'

.bdobd.

Doctor McCoy had not reacted at all well to the news of Ambassador Topos's demise. Nor had he been pleased to hear that he would have to autopsy the body with the _Enterprise_'s Inspector.

"God damn it, why can't _they _do it? It's not like we're _closer_."

Spock had the distinct impression that the only reason the doctor was hissing, not shouting, was that Jim was in the room immediately adjacent. "The _Salient_ does not have an Inspector, and her CMO does not have the license needed to autopsy a carcass."

McCoy growled and said something very unflattering about the _Salient_'s CMO. Spock refrained from mentioning that McCoy's own autopsy license was a very unusual accomplishment; most doctors assumed that an Inspector would be on hand to perform the more… manual parts of the activity.

"Will you be able to perform the procedure?"

"'Course I will!" McCoy seemed offended to have been asked. "'S not like I got that license to _frame._ When'll we get the body?"

That was an excellent question. "We will have to at least make an appearance at the Cardassian border, so as not to disobey direct orders from the Federation Council. Assuming we spend twelve Standard hours there, and that the _Salient_ will be immediately successful at retrieving the carcass, the corpse will be in our possession in approximately two days."

McCoy looked disgusted. "A _two-day-old _corpse? Ugh. They've bloated by then."

Spock did not mention the fact that the Ambassador was already twelve hours dead. He would be three days deceased by the time Doctor McCoy would cut him open. "But you will be able to –,"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. Just have to make sure to really scrub everything down after."

Spock was surprised to find that the very thought of a surgical room after an autopsy was enough to make him seriously consider avoiding monthly examinations for the entirety of the five year mission. He nodded to the doctor, who was amused by his expression, and quickly checked on Jim.

Jim was awake. Spock should have expected. He closed the door behind him and stood by the captain's head. "You should be asleep."

Jim snorted hollowly. "I don't think you should be in here, either."

"I am simply informing myself of my captain's status," Spock stated in what he knew to be an arrogant manner, "but you are disobeying direct orders."

Jim smiled, like Spock knew he would. "Yeah, well. That's me."

"It is not, really, though you cultivate that image."

Jim grinned wanly.

"… How long will it be until we're able to get to Orion?"

"If we stay twelve hours at the border, it will take a minimum of two Standard days."

Jim winced. "Ugh. A three day old corpse."

Spock, again, did not allow himself to envision an ambassador three days deceased.

"Is there anything I may do? We are on schedule to Cardassia and have encountered no resistance."

Jim nodded tiredly. "I really need you to get Topos to realize that his father's dead _before _we do the autopsy. I don't want to have to report the results before the guy gets that his dad's not coming home."

Spock nodded. "I will do my best."

Jim looked vaguely amused. "Your best is more than enough."

.bdobd.

Zarabeth Nowmi had been more than surprised to hear that Spock was on her private channel.

"I'm coming; hold him on." She jogged from the staff meeting past the makeup room and into her office. Mishet, Nala's replacement, was at her desk looking like he was in the middle of a conversation with god. Nowmi pointed the delighted Tellarite towards the staff meeting room.

"Commander Spock! I certainly wasn't expecting to see you."

Spock did not look at all happy to be talking to her again. "Indeed."

That tone always threw her off. "Um… Is there anything I can do for you?"

"The Captain is in need of a favor."

"Oh?" Zarabeth raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor."

"If you could look into recent Orion news surrounding Ambassador Topos, he would be most appreciative."

Ooh. _This_ could be good_._ "Having some trouble with him?" she grinned.

Spock shook his head. He looked almost sad. "No, we have been having far too little."

Was he agreeing too much? Did they think he was lying about what he was doing? "I'll look into it, but I can't promise you a segment," Zarabeth said.

Spock nodded. "That is acceptable. You assistance is appreciated, Miss Nowmi."

She nodded back. "Of course, Commander. Please give the Captain my good wishes."

"I will."

Spock cut the connection. "T'Panya!" Zarabeth shouted from her desk.

"Yes, Miss Nowmi?" T'Panya responded from the staff room.

"Take Mishet and look into the Orion feeds about Ambassador Topos," Zarabeth ordered, "Kirk needs us for something."

.bdobd.

NOWMI: I know that this may be sort of frying pan to fire, so I'd like to give you a chance to correct me. Was anything in the intro wrong?

DATRAM, JUNIOR COUNCILMAN OF ORION: Your characterization of the events was a bit forced, I believe. There is no conflict between the Federation and the Orion government. Captain Kirk of Starfleet requested the body of the Ambassador, and we provided it.

NOWMI: What about the argument Captain Tranya says she had with Ambassador Sar? Is she misremembering things?

DATRAM: Well - Sar is not in charge of diplomacy on a federal scale.

NOWMI: But there was an argument.

DATRAM: I do not know the specifics of anything like that.

NOWMI: Alright, we'll come back to that one. Why did the Orion government think it could have Ambassador Topos's body? It's very clearly written in your membership agreement that the Federation gets to autopsy all of its governmental employees.

DATRAM: We assumed that the ambassador had signed the release for our people to embalm him. We were wrong, and the _Enterprise_ is on its way to retrieve the corpse.

NOWMI: Why didn't you check?

DATRAM: Check what?

NOWMI: Why didn't you check for the release forms?

DATRAM: I - cannot speak for the subordinates of another.

NOWMI: So you don't know.

DATRAM: Such things are not within my jurisdiction, no.

NOWMI: But informing the next of kin is within your jurisdiction. Captain Topos of the _USS Potemkin_ did not know about his father's passing until Captain Kirk called him to tell him about it. Why did Captain Kirk know about the ambassador before Captain Topos did?

DATRAM: Ambassador Sar acted - was acting without orders when he told Captain Kirk about Ambassador Topos. He is being processed as we speak.

NOWMI: But Sar told Captain Kirk about Ambassador Topos almost twelve Standard hours after the Ambassador had died. Why was Captain Topos not called within those twelve hours?

DATRAM: You are overstating the issue. We wished to tell the Captain of his father's passing only after we knew what had happened to him. We hoped to deaden some of the emotional trauma in this manner.

NOWMI: But informing the next of kin comes before the autopsy. This is in your constitution, and it's been the ritual for thousands of years on Orion and on Earth. Why would you change that now?

DATRAM: We - We felt that the Captain should know how his father died.

NOWMI: Yes, I agree with that. But you are supposed to tell the next of kin about the death before you begin the autopsy. Had you considered that some human religions reject an autopsy? Captain Topos may not have wanted his father cut open. Why did you not call him?

DATRAM: We made a mistake. The _Enterprise_ is coming for the body.

NOWMI: The _Enterprise_ is supposed to be patrolling the Cardassian border. They can't do that now, because the _Potemkin_ doesn't have an Inspector and someone from the Federation needs to look at the corpse. Why not have just given the cadaver over to the _Salient_, which was patrolling the Orion sector, and ask the _Salient_ to give the body to the _Enterprise_?

DATRAM: The _Salient_ is not any ship we do business with.

NOWMI: What do you mean? It's a Constitution class starship that's headed by a Federation captain. You have to do business with her.

DATRAM: She is no captain.

NOWMI: What - No, I meant the ship. You have to do business with her, the ship.

DATRAM: Oh. No, we prefer other ships.

NOWMI: You don't have that choice. It is a Starfleet starship. It does business with you.

DATRAM: No, not with us.

NOWMI: That kind of thing is illegal. You're a member of the Federation. That means that you have to work with the Federation. That's the deal. We protect you and buy from you and give you a vote in our government, and you pay us taxes and give us our people back when they die.

DATRAM: To the _Salient_, we will not.

NOWMI: Are you trying to say that you did not tell Captain Topos of his father's death because of the _Salient_?

DATRAM: The death was saddening, and we wished to know the cause before we went and plastered the news around the Federation. We -

NOWMI: I'm not asking about the entire Federation, I'm asking about this man's son -

DATRAM: - did not want to go to the Captain with no information; he would not accept that.

(CROSSTALK)

NOWMI: I'm asking about this man's son, who wasn't told about his father's death, who found out about it when his co-worker called him to tell him that his father's died, who wouldn't know now about the death unless Kirk hadn't called without orders to tell his friend that his father had just been found dead in a hotel room. Why didn't you tell Captain Topos about his father? Why did you leave it to Captain Kirk?

DATRAM: Captain Kirk is a very accomplished man and -

NOWMI: That's not what I'm asking; why did you make Captain Kirk take time from patrolling a very active part of the border to call his co-worker to tell him something he should already know. He should have known because you should -

DATRAM: I have great faith in the Captaincy to rise to any occasion -

NOWMI: - have told him. They should not have had to rise to any occasion; why didn't you do your -

(CROSSTALK)

DATRAM: We were in the process of informing the Captain -

NOWMI: But you didn't inform him and he didn't know until hours after he should have. Why didn't you tell him?

DATRAM: It is time for a commercial break; your sponsors will be unhappy if you do not break now.

NOWMI: People need to know why, sir; why didn't you tell the Captain? You put -

DATRAM: I happen to know some of the sponsors; they will not take -

NOWMI: - the system under huge stress when you didn't do your job -

(CROSSTALK) 

DATRAM: - to this kindly. I did do my job, I am doing it now.

NOWMI: - and made other do it for you. Wait. Now? Did you ever call the Captain?

DATRAM: It is impossible that he does not know now. There is no point.

NOWMI: I know there is some confidential information about the circumstances of the death that you can't tell me. But you need to tell the next of kin. It is illegal for you to not have called the Captain.

DATRAM: There is no longer any point to such an undertaking. The Captain must know by now.

NOWMI: But - but- (UNINTELLIGIBLE) You have to have told him. It's the law.

DATRAM: It does not make any sense to rehash the issue with him.

NOWMI: I don't understand. You've got to call him. That's the law. You're breaking the law.

DATRAM: No I am not.

NOWMI: Yes, you are. A Councilperson from the origin planet of an incident must inform the next of kin of such an incident. 'Death of a relative' is an official incident.

DATRAM: No it is not.

NOWMI: Yes, it is! It's in your constitution! Have you read your constitution?

DATRAM: Yes. That law does not exist.

NOWMI: Yes it does! It -

(COMMERCIAL BREAK)

.bdobd.

The captain was in Sickbay for the entirety of the trip to the Cardassian border. Doctor McCoy ordered a strict quarantine of the area surrounding the ill human: As the Doctor did not have an antiviral prepared for the disease, he could not in good conscience allow other crewmembers to enter the affected areas.

This pleased no one. The entire bridge crew and the majority of the engineering, navigation, communications, and sciences cores usually visited the captain while he was waylaid in Doctor McCoy's realm. The captain was allowed a comm unit, which he used frequently to request updates on the growing distrust between the Orion government and the rest of the Federation.

Many planets had been becoming envious of the proportionally lax trade regulations the Orions operated under. With this new development they found an excuse to press for stricter inspections of Orion products. The inspections would slow all Orion exports by three Standard weeks. The lag between shipments was predicted to cause major system collapses across the Federation.

As the communications collapse had been solved not four days ago, the general public was leery of the new regulations. Their representatives had collectively decided to just not care, and were aggressively pursuing the legislation.

Zarabeth Nowmi's show had entertained great ratings boosts since the Vulcan Remembrance Ceremony – the Vulcan High Council had just approved a committee to oversee the _real_ memorial – and her interview with Junior Councilman Datram.

As such, she had been granted access to a number of high quality sources and now was airing shows that were filled with exclusive material. The _Salient_ and the _Enterprise_ both relied heavily upon it for the most current happenings within the Orion government

Captain Tranya said such on the current channel she had open with the captain. Spock had overheard such when he was checking the frequency's strength from the captain's chair.

Miss Nowmi's shows had become so essential to the daily workings of the _Enterprise_ that Spock had programmed ordered the broadcast shown on the main screen. There was, in fact, nothing better to be using the main screen for: Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Chekov could do their duties with no visual aid.

The captain's channel with Captain Tranya was cut. Kirk opened a link to the bridge.

"Hello? Spock, you there?"

"Affirmative." Doctor McCoy had not allowed a camera to be installed in Kirk's medical room.

"Great. Listen, we've got to get to the _Salient_ as fast as possible. Tranya's been having huge issues negotiating with Orion's prime minister." Spock had not known that Orion had a prime minister. No one did, at least officially. Tranya must have informed him.

"She wants us there in a day and a half. Can we make it?"

Spock looked to Lieutenant Sulu, who winced and shook his head. "Negative."

The captain swore in a language that Spock did not know. "Right. As fast as possible. I'll be out of here in a couple of hours to make nice with the Cardassians, okay?"

.bdobd.

After three more tortuous hours, Bones finally let him out of Sickbay. Jim dashed up to the bridge.

"Well?"

Spock swiveled and stood to bow. Jim went to wave him out of it, but Spock shook his head and dipped much lower than usual. Jim nodded authoritatively and sat, spinning to face the Cardassian whose face covered the main screen.

"Captain Kirk. I am pleased to observe you in good health." The Cardassian – Kell, Kirk's brain provided, he was a Legate in the Cardassian military – looked around him and stared accusingly at Spock.

"Thank you," Kirk nodded. "I have been recovering from a foreign contaminate for the past two days. I was released from our medical offices not ten Standard minutes ago. My first officer had not been regularly checking his messages when he started his conversation with you."

The last part was an outright lie, but with Cardassians it was always better to name a scapegoat outright, lest they try and make one up. That never went well. It'd been the first major breakthrough he and Spock had had when they'd begun talking to the strange people.

Kell nodded knowingly. "Subordinates can be troubling in this manner. I would recommend confinement."

"… I will give your recommendation the consideration it deserves."

"It is appreciated." Kell settled back and waited for Kirk to guess what he wanted to talk about.

It was another fun, apparently species-wide quirk: The person being addressed was expected to choose which topic to choose from, _based on what the addresser wanted_. You had to take polite potshots at whatever you thought was on the other guy's mind before he'd give you any information, and it was always only what they wanted you to know.

Kirk decided to just be blunt. "We were ordered here to inspect a report that said the missing ship _Excalibur II_ was sighted in this area soon before it disappeared."

Kell raised an eyebrow awkwardly. No one had done that before Jim and Spock had started talking to them; they'd picked the mannerism up quickly and it was spreading fast. "You have_ misplaced_ a _ship?_ The Federation is quite forgetful."

"I disagree," Kirk responded lightly. "If we were forgetful, we would not be here, would we?"

Kell considered this carefully before nodding in agreement. "Indeed. I have seen none of your _Excalibur II_. I was stationed here two weeks ago. The officer before I recorded a Federation patrol. We had assumed it to be the _Enterprise._"

"Your report is most helpful," Kirk said with relief. "It was an honor to speak with you, Legate Kell."

Kell seemed very pleased that Jim knew of him. "And I, you, Federation Captain Kirk. Will you be speaking to the Emissary?"

_Shit._ The Emissary was the head of the He couldn't answer no without insulting everyone this side of the Alpha/Beta Quadrant border, but he couldn't say yes without lying, which would be even worse.

"… I will attempt to," Kirk said slowly, "but I can promise naught. There are troubles with the Orion planets. My ship is needed."

Kell frowned. "The Emissary is very interested in an audience. Are you unwilling to grant one?"

"I am uncertain if I shall be able. I very much wish to speak with the Emissary, but my superiors may render me unable to do so."

"I had expected to find you able to overcome such," Kell said snootily.

Kirk let his eyebrows rise. "Such would be blatent insubordination." And you guys are supposed to _hate_ that shit. Don't tell me that I've got _that_ wrong.

Kell shrugged coyly. "If it is necessary for the betterment of your people…" Jim realized that he didn't know exactly _how_ Kell had managed to replace Gul Danar, who was the last person who'd been stationed here. Apparently _selective_ disobedience was tolerated.

"I find myself unwilling to place my crew in such danger. They will be punished, as I will be, if I rebel. I will try my hardest to be present for an audience, but I can promise nothing. I will attempt. I may not succeed."

Kell wasn't pleased, but he seemed resigned to Kirk's decision. "I will inform my superiors," he said slowly, "of your intents."

Ah. Yeah. Jim would be unhappy too, if he had to be the one to tell the bosses that their favorite guest wasn't coming. These bosses had knives and chambers. "I apologize for any inconvenience," he said lamely. "I must leave. The Orions are troublesome."

"I wish you success," Kell replied.

"And to you."

They cut the connection almost simultaneously. Jim sighed and slumped dramatically in his chair. "Well that was _fun_," he said to no one in particular.

Spock stepped forward from behind the chair. "I may find little amusement in the situation at hand."

Jim sighed, not really in the mood for Spock's odd sense of humor. "Sulu, Orion. Now. Fast."

"Yes, sir. Warp factor 8, sir?"

"You know it."

Sulu nodded and spun the ship smoothly around. The stars jerked slightly before streaking against their solid black background. Spock took the moment to move within whispering distance.

"You did not ask of the Cardassian captain."

"The only thing that would've gotten us is a date for more negotiations. I can't make any appointments with the Admiralty tied in knots like this."

Spock sighed, breathing hot, weirdly dry air over Jim's right ear. The blonde was proud that he was only _momentarily_ distracted. "I am in agreement, though the situation is less than ideal."

Jim snorted. "No kidding. I feel kind of bad for Kell, having to go and tell the Guls that we won't be able to speak to them."

"I do not believe they wanted a simple frequency," Spock murmured, "for Kell was insinuating that your physical presence was requested by the Emissary."

Jim blinked and twisted to look at Spock. He misjudged the distance between them and wound up tapping the other man's cheekbone with the side of his nose. "Sorry. When'd he do that?"

Spock looked lost for a second before his eyes cleared again. "Before you arrived on the bridge. He wished to record your exact coordinates."

"For beaming?"

"I believe so."

"Does he know where I am now? Should I go to the gym or something?"

"Negative." Spock looked almost pleased with himself. "Lieutenant Uhura and I were able to block their scans."

They must've been doing that the entire time Jim'd been gabbing on. Jim patted Spock's cheek playfully. "You take such good care of me."

The Vulcan turned bright green. Jim took a moment to be utterly surprised, then became incredibly pleased with himself.

"_Tu se petakov._"

Jim strolled nonchalantly out, pretending that Spock wasn't positively _gaping_ at him.

.bdobd.


	18. A Change of Opinions

A/N: Ha! Done. These chapters are feeling more mammoth undertakings with every week. I started this ten minutes after returning from a four and a half hour SAT prep class.

I mention a 'pain ray' in this chapter, and it's based on something that a Los Angeles prison is to begin using on its convicts: the ray shoots miliwaves, which produce a sensation that's been compared to being scalded with boiling water. The only way to stop the pain is to run out of range of the gun. The US military _rejected the design_ for use in _military combat._ The gun was then taken up by the LA police as a convict control device. Mmm. Fun.

It can't kill, yet.

.bdobd.

Jim's stunt made Nyota feel that it was necessary to corner Spock on the vacant Deck Five.

"What was _that_ about?" she demanded. "What haven't you told me?"

"I do not know," Spock answered honestly. Nyota did not seem to appreciate such and glared at him.

"Don't play cute. Save _that_ for the captain. What do you think that you're doing?"

It took the Vulcan a while to realize what she was referring to. He grew irritated as he puzzled it out. "I have no control over Jim's actions. You know this."

"Oh," she raised an eyebrow, "it's _Jim_ now, isn't it. This is a bad idea Spock; he's the captain. You don't flirt with the captain."

"Excuse me?" Spock drew himself up to his full height. "I have done nothing of the sort. The captain and I have been engaged in private correspondence for a year now. You have no right to monitor such."

"That wasn't _private_, Spock, that was on the _bridge._ It's not that hard to look up an audio clip for translation." Nyota sounded genuinely concerned. "I'm serious. You can't be with him."

Spock stared at her. "Firstly, I am not in a relationship with the captain. Secondly, such is not of any concern to you. Thirdly, what negative effects could arise from such an arrangement?"

"So you _are_ thinking about it."

"Has not everyone, at this point? I know as much of the captain's rumored libido as you do."

She blinked at him in shock. "Well… Yeah, but, you're the first officer. Captains and officers aren't allowed to be romantically involved."

"Such is illegal when it negatively impacts a mission."

"But that can always happen when there's an emotional –! Oh. _Oooh._" She stared at him. "Would the Admiralty accept that?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Would any person accuse a Vulcan of lying now?"

Nyota seemed to consider the current political climate. "No," she mused, "I guess not."

.bdobd.

It took a day and a half for the _'petakov'_ story to make it down to Bones's Lair. When it finally trickled all the way down, Bones called Jim in for a physical, put him on a treadmill, set the incline at high as it'd go, and browbeat him for two hours straight. Jim'd managed to argue for only an hour and a half; after that he'd been a bit too busy breathing to really respond.

The issue had kind of been dropped after that. By the time they got to Orion, everyone had either forgotten about it or had just stopped whispering about it in front of their superior officers.

Jim had good money riding on the latter.

Orion spun cheerfully on its orbit, its sister planet, Orion Beta, chugging determinedly towards its twin. The _Enterprise_ was stationed around Alpha, but Tranya had the dubious honor of being stuck around Beta.

Datram's anti-_Salient_ rant on Nowmi's show mirrored the general sentiment of most Beta dwellers. They didn't like it and they didn't like Tranya. Jim could only imagine how awful negotiations must be.

Jim had Uhura call up the _Salient_ on channel one. He winced in sympathy. "Yowza. That bad?"

Tranya nodded tiredly. She looked haggard and wan, like she should really have stayed in her quarters for the day. "They won't let me have the body."

"_What?_" Kirk leaned forward in his chair. "I thought you had it!"

"No," Tranya shook her head, "they wanted to inspect our cargo holds first, to make sure that they're good enough, or something. I said no, they had no right, and they won't let us get Topos."

"Fuck," Kirk swore softly. He swiveled around to Spock for recommendations. Spock just looked at him blandly: This was an executive decision.

The Orions had _no_ right to inspect a Federation ship. But they had to get that body. They'd ask to look at the _Enterprise_, too, when he called down to ask. The body was already three days old by now, and no one really knew what conditions it was being held in.

"Right," Kirk nodded grimly, "I'll ask the Alpha government for the body and allow the scans. We can yell at them later; Topos is more important."

"Acknowledged." Tranya looked relieved that someone superior to her had made a definitive decision. "Tranya, out."

"Kirk, out." The screen cleared to show the planets again. "Uhura, get me a channel to Alpha."

"It's on four, sir."

Kirk pressed the button for channel four on his armrest. An Orion man's face appeared on the screen – 'A' something. Kirk already wanted the view of the planets back.

"I am James Kirk of the _USS Enterprise._ I need the body of the late Ambassador Aneas Topos. Do you have it?"

The Orion man looked offended that Kirk hadn't properly greeted him, but knew better than to make a fuss. "We must inspect your cargo holds first. They must be of the proper order to receive such a thing."

_You're full of shit_, Jim thought. "Fine. Make it quick. Send me the coordinates," Kirk said.

The Orion nodded and said something to someone off to his left. Uhura waved to show that she'd received whatever the man'd sent. The Orion was opening his mouth to say something, but Kirk cut him off, not in the mood for any more bullshit.

"I will speak with your government about this later. Kirk out." He cut the connection.

The Orion was _definitely_ offended at _that_. Thankfully he didn't have a lot of choice in the matter. Jim was still in charge of the thing with the guns. He swiveled around to a rather surprised looking Uhura. "Make an announcement that there'll be some Orions coming on to inspect the holds, and for no one to bother them, 'kay?"

She nodded mutely and put her earpiece in. Soon, her whispers could be heard rustling around the room. Jim sighed and slumped in his seat. It was times like these that he was glad the bridge wasn't hooked up to that damned PA system; that thing was fucking _loud._ He didn't have he patience for it.

.bdobd.

The captain had requested that Lieutenant-Commander Giotto escort the Orion team around the holds, so as to ensure that nothing was damaged in the process. "I would put Scotty up to it," he'd explained, "but he's not really known for being quiet. Would you mind?"

The Lieutenant-Commander did not, and had refused the offer of a camera tail. There would be no reason for such; there would not be any issues.

Spock had then gone to do his reports. They were not due for some time, but the captain seemed to become more exhausted the longer they stayed in Orion space. Spock hoped Jim would allow him to assist him with the captain's other forms. When the captain was tired, he seemed to lose his ability to spell.

Giotto's comm connection was silent for thirty-four point three minutes. All comm connections stopped five point seven three minutes after the Orions beamed aboard.

Spock found absolutely nothing concerning in this until Zarabeth Nowmi's show appeared on the mainscreen.

The opening music roused Jim from his light doze. "What the fuck?" he asked blearily.

"I apologize, captain," Spock said, stepping forward, "I ordered the show to be shown automatically while you were in Sickbay. It had the most current Orion information." 

Jim was paying very little attention to him. Spock turned his focus to the small section of screen set aside for the news show.

There were no graphics, and there was only fuzzy audio. It was a picture of blurred gray. There were black vertical lines that went quickly by in the –

They were wall panels, Spock realized. Metal gray panels, like those in the _Enterprise_'s engineering decks. He felt cold. Giotto had not checked in, he remembered.

Kirk was now almost standing, he had leaned so far forward in his seat. The audio was gaining clarity. A deep voice – M'Ress, most likely, if Spock's hypothesis was correct, was babbling anxiously.

The sound sharpened suddenly. "– and I just thought I'd call you," M'Ress – for it was clearly he – said, "because you've been here and you'd know how weird this is."

M'Ress must have grabbed a wireless engineer's camera. Repair crew working in the Jefferies tubes sometimes used them to peer over obstructions. There was no reason for M'Ress to be using it in a hallway.

M'Ress stopped talking and froze underneath an announcement speaker. The camera was tilted to show the black mesh panel.

The panel thumped once before announcing that the _Enterprise _was under the control of the Orion government, and that Captain Kirk was dead, and that everyone on board was to surrender to the Orions.

Kirk went white and shot out of his chair, stalking over to Uhura's station. She was working to break open the top panel of her station to get at the circuits inside.

Spock had his second take over Sciences, walked over to where Kirk and Uhura were trying to take off the panel, and ripped the plastic off of the station.

Uhura looked at him with abbreviated amazement, but immediately went to work at the machine. The majority of the breakers had been activated. Kirk looked to Spock, who nodded. Kirk went to his chair and opened up his armrests to begin to enhance whatever was enabling Nowmi's show to get through the Orion block, while Spock and Uhura destroyed what foreign programming they could.

It was strange to have the bridge so quiet in the middle of a crisis. Usually there were at least the sounds of impacts on the hull, or of the captain giving orders. All crew who were helpless watched M'Ress's camera jog along the halls, and all those who had work to do were doing it to the exclusion of all else.

"Your captain is dead," the announcement system screeched on camera. It had not played in the bridge. The bridge was not connected to the PA system. Why would one need to hear the announcer and the announcement itself? There was no way to make an announcement from outside of the bridge.

Except, of course, that there was. Apparently.

Uhura was not elbow-deep in circuitry, literally holding the bottom of her station up to keep it from collapsing in upon itself. Spock had been handed a forceps by someone in his department and was in the process of splitting a cable exactly in half when the shooting began.

The Orion government was not supposed to have access to wave-based weaponry. They had access to wave-based weaponry.

Spock could not see anything, but he could hear it, and far more clearly than any of the humans could. The Orions were based in a security camera array station, all of which were set in alcoves that were carved into the walls of Deck Q. They were using some sort of a pain ray – the screaming of the crew was intense before it stopped shortly.

The captain did not remark upon the sound. He worked faster.

After three more minutes, Spock could not think of who else the Orions could shoot. There were only so many organic beings on Deck Q; it was not a very populous part of the ship. It was probable that M'Ress was the only crewperson on that Deck who was still alive.

Kirk broke into something with a short exhalation of relief. "Spock, bluwire, no 'e'."

There were a variety of wires of the color blue, but there was only one bluwire. Named for the archaic 'BlueTooth' device, it was a last resort radio to the nearest Federation vessel. Captain Tranya would be listening.

Spock activated the bluwire and Tranya appeared either on the mainscreen or over the captain's armrest; Spock could not turn to see. "What do you need."

"Where are they?" Kirk asked.

"I'm locked onto them," Captain Tranya said. "Beam?"

"Into your brigs. I want them held."

"Understood."

The ship shivered slightly as the _Salient_ destroyed the Orion block. "I'll hold them until you need them," Captain Tranya said flatly. "Anything else?"

"No. My Communications team has got it covered. Worse case, we'll use the Jefferies tubes."

The doors would be locked, Spock realized suddenly. They were actually trapped. No wonder M'Ress had stayed on Deck Q; the turbolifts were most likely jammed as well.

The Orions had nearly managed to take over the ship simply by stealing the announcements system and blocking comm calls.

.bdobd.

FULL STATEMENT ON THE ORION RAID ON THE _ENTERPRISE_

CPT KIRK, CMDR SPOCK, LT-CMDR GIOTTO

On Stardate 2259.52, 1436 Orion-Standard hours, the _Enterprise_ (NCC1701) arrived at and settled into orbit around Orion Alpha. CPT Kirk contacted CPT Tranya of the _Salient _(NCC1709), which was in orbit around Orion Beta, at 1437 hours. CPT Kirk contacted MSH Atraos and arranged for an Orion team to beam aboard the _Enterprise_ at 1440.5 hours. The team of Orions was beamed at 1441 hours. At 1442 hours LT-CMDR Giotto met the team in Transporter Room A-7

At 1443 hours the Orion team was met by LT-CMDR Giotto, who escorted them to Cargo Hold 3-F. The team arrived at Hold 3-F at 1445 hours. By 1447 hours the Orions had stunned LT-CMDR Giotto and locked him in the hold. The Orion team used Turbolift D/R DRCT to reach Security Deck 3 [aka Deck Q]. Two of the Orion team broke into room SecCam2 at 1452 hours. The rest of the team stood guard in the hall.

Sounds of commotion were heard from room SecCam2 at 1452.2 hours. Such noises ceased at 1452.8 hours. At 1453 hours all security cameras were shut off. All information following is based on eyewitness reports and so must be observed to have an error margin reasonable with such events.

At approximately 1457 those of the Orion team who were not in SecCam2 broke into room SecCam7. The three crewpeople inside were killed with a wave-based weapon. The PA system was rewired to be accessible only from SecCam7. All outgoing communications were blocked. All incoming communications were rerouted to SecCam7, where most were deleted or blocked. All inter-ship communications were blocked.

At 1503 the following was heard over the PA system: 'We are the Orion government. We have Captain Kirk and Commander Spock as hostages. Surrender now or they will be killed.'

A team of six security personnel went of their own volition to Security Deck 3 after making three unsuccessful attempts at bridge contact at 1503.2, 1503.7, and 1504.2 hours. They were killed at 1509 hours. Their bodies were dragged into SecCam2.

LT M'Ress used Jefferies tube GNDN 74-217 to reach Security Deck 3. He brought with him Maintenance Camera 3.41A (model Ason-ppley). He found the bodies of the six Security crewpeople at approximately 1516 hours. He began recording at exactly 1522.7 hours.

Zarabeth Nowmi of IPFPNN received an audio-video clip 1525 hours. She watched it and played it, live, on her show at 1532 hours. The show was set to play on the Main Bridge Viewing Screen of both the _Enterprise_ and the _Salient_ automatically. LT M'Ress's footage was seen by CPT Kirk, CPT Tranya, and CMDR Spock.

CPT Tranya ordered contact made with the _Enterprise_ at 1533 hours. When this failed, she ordered the Orion communications block destroyed. CPT Kirk began to enhance the contact established on the IPFPNN channel. CMDR Spock and LT Uhura destroyed the Communications Station's top panel and rewired the station to accept incoming frequencies.

At 1537 hours, eleven Security crewpeople used Jefferies tube GNDN 74-771 to attempt contact with LT M'Ress. They were killed by an Orion weapon using wave technology at 1538. Three minutes later, LT M'Ress was the only _Enterprise_ crewperson alive on Security Deck 3.

CPT Kirk established contact with CPT Tranya at 1541.6 hours. CPT Tranya beamed aboard the Orion team at 1541.9 hours. The Orions were locked in High-Security Brig One at 1543 hours. The Orion alterations were fully reversed at 1634 hours. The bodies of the seventeen dead Security crewpeople were recovered at 1648 hours.

Commendations for LT M'Ress, LT Uhura, CMDR Spock, and ENS Martan are recommended by CPT Kirk. Commendations for CMDR Nith and CMDR Trelayn are recommended by CPR Tranya.

.bdobd.

The Admiralty was not happy that M'Ress had sent the video clips to Nowmi instead of to Fleet Command. Kirk was just angry enough to call them all bastards to their faces. He also threatened to record any reprimand they gave to M'Ress or Spock.

They responded to that second bit. They send Spock and Giotto down to Orion to yell at the government, instead.

Jim met them in the transporter room. Spock and Giotto were clipping on their phasers. Giotto gave a little salute as he entered. Spock just nodded. "Captain."

"You know I'm coming down with you, right."

Spock looked like he wanted to argue, but Giotto grinned slightly and tossed him a utility belt. "I finally got permission to distribute these for classified 'hospitable' away missions. Something about the Zedakitians _and_ the Theta mission _and_ the Orion attack made them change their minds."

Jim smiled in spite of himself. "Funny how that works." He paused in the middle of cinching his belt closed. "Yes, Mr. Spock?"

"I do not believe it would be wise for the three of us to beam together," Spock argued stiffly. "If we are incapacitated –,"

"Then Sulu will be in charge and the ship'll be fine," Jim said nonchalantly. "He's had enough experience."

The Vulcan knew better than to argue with that tone. "… Do you wanna ge' on the pad, then?" Scotty asked nervously. Giotto took charge.

"Yep, I think we're ready." He turned to his two superiors, who were in the middle of an epic battle royal that was being fought exclusively by glaring.

"We are indeed," Jim agreed, stepping onto the pad. He looked regally down at Spock, daring him to oppose.

Spock did not. He just followed Jim, trusting the human not to lead them all into hell again. Giotto claimed the pad between the two.

"Energize," Kirk ordered.

.bdobd.

Orion was one of the few planets that managed to be visibly ironic. On one hand, it was known to be the main pleasure planet of the Federation.

On the other hand, it was probably the most _uncomfortable_ planet in the entire damn collection. It was hot and muggy and _wet_ without actually being 'warm'. Which made absolutely no sense. The sky was also a particularly horrible shade of green.

Giotto peered at one of the many pus yellow clouds with a vague disinterest. "That's a bit nauseating."

Jim grunted in agreement, preferring to peer at the scantily clad native population. "Much nicer at sea level, I think."

"Shall we continue?" Spock asked stiffly. Jim shrugged and began tramping through the thick air.

They got to the Grand Marshal's residence thirty very sticky minutes later. Spock actually looked uncomfortable; his skin had become oddly shiny. Giotto was staring at the hybrid's forehead with interest. "Are you running a fever?"

"Vulcans can absorb moisture through their pores," Spock said tightly. "There is a surfeit of water in the air." Giotto nodded slowly and went off to argue their way into the Marshal's house.

Jim stayed next to Spock. An awkward silence stretched between them.

Giotto wasn't having much luck.

Giotto showed the guard his badge, his rank lines, and his phaser. The last finally opened the gate. Jim shuffled through, Spock trudging heavily behind.

The Marshal's home was singularly unpleasant. The majority of it was done up in variations of puce, a combination which exactly failed to please the senses. Marshal Atraos was standing at the top of an ostentatious spiral staircase.

"Comrades," the Marshal smiled through gritted teeth, "I welcome you."

"Oh, come off it," Jim ordered tiredly. "I'm hot and it's humid and I'm tired. Just give us the body and we'll leave."

Atraos was the man Jim'd insulted over channel four, the one who'd sent up the beam coordinates. Atraos hadn't cheered up since then. His face hardened. "I am afraid that is impossible."

Jim could hear Giotto priming his phaser. Spock would be shifting his weight to push Jim out of any enemy fire, now. "Is it impossible because you've destroyed the body or because you're not going to let us have the body."

"Soon, both," Atraos grinned, and three huge Orions popped out from behind the base of the staircase.

Giotto shot them. Giotto stunned them. They stopped moving. Atraos's jaw dropped.

Jim started up the staircase. This was probably being recorded; it was best to go for show. "What you don't understand, Marshal," he began theatrically, "is that I am the one with the power here. You are not."

Jim was so glad that Spock was flanking him it wasn't even funny. He could hear Giotto taking out snipers stationed on the second floor. "I am the person who has the Admiralty and the Fleet on my side. I am following the law."

Spock used his phaser on someone. There was a thump. Jim didn't slow. "You are participating in illegal activities, and you're doing it publically, and you've _been_ doing it for some time, now. You will be punished."

Jim reached the top stair and leaned in close to Atraos. "I _win,_ sir. You lose. You took my men and I'll take your position in return. You'll never work in anything important again. I'll see to it."

He motioned to Spock. Atraos got a nerve pinch and collapsed bonelessly on the weirdly yellow rug. "Is he down, sir?" Giotto called from the foyer.

"Yep," Jim answered without taking his eyes off of the unconscious murderer. "Fan out. Topos is somewhere in the house. We need to find that carcass by four o'clock or McCoy's going to kill me."

.bdobd.


	19. Turning Point

A/N: If anyone here hasn't seen Saving Private Ryan, than they should go and rent that movie and watch it. Right now.

I finally looked up the geography of the Star Trek galaxy: it's divided into four sections: going clockwise, the lower left hand bit is the Alpha, the lower right is the Beta, the upper right is the Delta, and the upper left is the Gamma. The Federation is mostly in the Alpha Q, with a little smidgen bleeding over into the Beta Q. The Klingon/Romulan Empires are both mostly in the Beta quadrants, with the Romulan Empire being set a bit 'above' the Klingon. The Cardassian Empire is in the Gamma Q and a bit in the Alpha. The Dominion and the Borg are in the 'upper' parts of the Gamma and Delta Qs, respectively.

I'm going to try to get a link to my homemade reference chart on my profile by the end of the week. My internet connection's been pretty awful, though, so no promises there. Really, the map doesn't much affect this part of the story, and I'll keep you regularly updated on where everything is.

.bdobd.

Spock was forced to delay the writing of his reports for an additional hour after the body of Ambassador Topos was beamed aboard the ship. The smell the carcass emitted had made it easy to locate, but was pervasive. He had taken a sonic shower and changed uniforms, but the odor lingered still.

It was of little importance. Spock went to the bridge and found the captain staring at nothing at all with clear concern.

"Captain?"

The blonde startled. "Mm?"

"May I be of some assistance?"

Kirk peered into the middle distance again. "Sulu said he saw a blip on his radar a few minutes ago. We're having a hard time figuring out what it could have been."

"Could it be gravitational interference patterns created by the two planets?"

Kirk shook his head. "If it was, it wouldn't've just disappeared like that. I'm worried," he added unnecessarily.

"I will look into the matter, Captain," Spock promised. "… Have you bathed yet, sir?"

Kirk must have come directly to the bridge after he had dismissed Giotto and Spock. The scent of rotting flesh clung to his shirts. "…You think I smell."

"Rather pungently, sir."

A smile flickered briefly across Jim's face. "Fine." He sighed and slapped the arms of his chair. "You have the conn, Mister Spock."

"Yes, sir." Kirk was already through the turbolift's doors. Spock placed himself gingerly in the chair; he would have to get it cleaned. "Lieutenant Sulu, are there any theories to what the irregularity could have been?"

"No, sir," the Lieutenant was focused intently on his station's data screen, his head tilted downward dramatically to stare at the newly updated graphs. "It looked like a ship, for a moment, but I don't know any ships that can go that fast."

"Lieutenant Uhura, has Captain Tranya contacted us with any information pertaining to the irregularity?"

"No sir," the woman twisted slightly to look at him from one eye. "We did ask, though. She said she hadn't seen anything."

Such may mean nothing. The _Enterprise_'s scanners were the best of Starfleet's vessels. It must have taken much effort on the part of the Captain to obtain all of them for the ship, Spock realized. With equipment in such short supply, Kirk must have had to negotiate very smoothly to acquire such high-quality machinery.

Spock felt unaccountably guilty. Sciences was the only department that used those systems. The scanners had been requisitioned over the second shore leave the _Enterprise_ had been granted; the Captain must have spent the majority of it convincing the Admiralty that the complaints of one Commander Spock were great enough to upset the rationings that every ship had been allotted.

There was no time for such musings. He could meditate later. "Ensign Chekov, did you observe a similar phenomenon to the one Lieutenant Sulu described?"

"Yes, ser, but only a bit. It vas wery slight."

Doctor McCoy's channel flashed on the armrest. "Yes, Doctor McCoy?"

"What –? Where's Jim?" the doctor demanded.

"Bathing. The smell of the body was quite distinctive." Doctor McCoy had blanched at the stench when the carcass first materialized in the transporter room. He had collected himself admirably and managed to get the corpse from the transporter to the medical bays in less than five minutes.

"God, don't remind me. I'm covered in _juices_."

Spock chose to ignore the latter statement. "You have completed the autopsy very quickly."

The doctor snorted. "Wasn't that hard to see what'd killed him. Phaser shot to the back of the head. He died quickly, at least. The rest was just formalities. You know he had liver cirrhosis? Must've been a drinker."

Spock truly did not wish to envision how Doctor McCoy came to know this fact. "Indeed. Do you believe him murdered?"

"Yep. 'D be a damned difficult shot to make yourself. He'd've had to prop the gun against the wall or something; it was almost straight on."

"Thank you, Doctor." Spock made to close the channel.

"Wait; do you know when Jim'll be back in? I've got some Confidential here."

"He should return in approximately five minutes. I will inform him of such."

"Thanks, Spock." The doctor closed the frequency. Spock returned his focus to the increasingly frustrated Lieutenant Sulu. "Lieutenant, is Sciences collaborating with you?"

Ensign Martan, Sciences' second-in-command, had been promoted to Lieutenant after her performance during the Orion boarding. If she had neglected to aid Helm, however…

"Yeah, they've been going over the gravity readouts for us. I just don't see what it could _be_; it's too sudden for a natural force change, but too small for any Orion or Romulan ship –,"

"What about Klingon?" Uhura asked suddenly. "I've got some static on a locked frequency that sounds pretty close to Klingonese."

There was total silence across the bridge for one point four minutes. "… That'd work," Lieutenant Sulu admitted.

"Indeed." Spock had just received Martan's updated gravity readouts. "Are we able to chart its trajectory?"

"I'm on it now, sir," Lieutenant Martan said hurriedly. "I'm just plugging it in –,"

Spock saw the trend a third of a second before Lieutenant Martan did. "Fuck," she swore softly. Spock called a red alert and paged the captain.

"They are underneath our left nacelle," Spock stated. There were few censors along the bottom of the ship, which was why the craft had been recorded as passing so quickly. "They will most probably aim for the intersection of it and the body of the ship."

"I found zem, ser," Chekov said. "Should I fire?"

Kirk burst onto the bridge. Spock stood. "What are the Klingon shields at?"

"Maximum, sir, and they're arming photon torpedoes," Uhura declared.

"_Damn_ it. Right, we've got orders from the Admiralty to get to Earth ASAP to present Topo's body." Kirk claimed his chair and looked sharply at Spock. "Murdered?"

"By a phaser shot to the back of the head. The doctor also has Confidential to share with you."

"Fuck, that's not good."

The Klingon's first shot shoot the ship slightly. "Shields at forty-seven percent, and that joint's not happy about it," Sulu muttered quickly.

"Shoot to kill." Chekov looked behind him with clear surprise; that was not the usual order. "We don't have the time for this. Get rid of them and get to Earth; Barnett's pissed with us."

"Yes ser."

The Klingon ship was put on the main screen. It was a small craft with large guns. It came apart of the screen with the sudden flash of a photon blast.

"Warp 8, sir?" Sulu asked.

"Whatever's fastest," Kirk ordered. "Spock, with me; we've got to go talk the Commodore down."

"The conn, sir?"

"Uhura." Kirk thumbed in the chair's general direction. "Get us there quick. No distractions."

"Yes sir, no distractions." Uhura clipped sharply over to the chair.

Kirk was waiting impatiently in the turbolift before she had traveled a meter.

.bdobd.

The reason for Commodore Barnett's distress was both understandable and irritating.

"You embarrassed the man in his own home!" he raged. "Now we'll never get a deal on those trade pacts."

"How did you want me to do it, sir?" Kirk asked tiredly. "He wasn't going to give us Topos, and we needed Topos."

"We also needed those agreements," Barnett stated flatly, "but we're not going to get those, either, now are we?"

"… We did locate the corpse," Spock said quietly.

"You did?" Barnett appeared stunned. "I thought that Tranya –," Barnett looked closely at Jim's expression of exasperated irritation. "Nevermind. What are you doing near Orion anyway? You're supposed to be with the Cardassians."

The captain swallowed roughly. He had apparently forgotten to inform the Commodore of the _Enterprise_'s new route. "Well, Tranya… You know how the _Salient_ doesn't have an Inspector?"

"Wha – _Oh_." Barnett sighed and put his head in his hands. "Please tell me you didn't screw up anything on the way over."

Kirk peered worriedly up at Spock, clearly remembering the distressed look Legate Kell had given them when they'd said that they could not meet with the Emissary. "I… don't think so?"

Barnett stared up at them through his fingers. "You don't _think_ so?"

"Well, if we go back right now we might be able to make the ceremony…" Kirk hedged.

Barnett's eyes widened. "What ceremony? We need you and that body on Earth. Jim, damnit, was this in your logs?"

Kirk squirmed uncomfortably. "… They aren't due for another two weeks, sir."

"You're supposed to be doing them every week!"

"Well nobody told _me_ that!" Jim protested crossly. "How'm I supposed to do what you want if you don't tell me what to do!"

"You're _supposed_ to already _know!_ Spock, why haven't you stepped in on this?"

Spock was surprised to be suddenly pulled back into the conversation. "I was told to allow for the difference in command styles sure to result from a different captain."

Barnett looked horrified. "But –! But –!"

"We – Spock and I – were invited to a meeting with the Emissary of the Cardassian Empire. We had to decline because we were running off to Orion to get the body that Tranya couldn't get," Jim explained quickly. "Do you want us to reroute to Cardassia? We might still make it."

They would most likely arrive too late, unless we changed course within the next ten minutes. Barnett thought carefully before shaking his head. "No. We need that body. We'll deal with the Cardassians afterwards. Get to Earth, and we'll deal from there."

"Yes, sir," Kirk responded. Spock nodded sharply.

"Good. Next time, in the logs, immediately. Barnett out."

The commodore cut the connection before Jim could respond. The blonde rested his head in his arms and groaned. "I wish everything could just _stop_, for like, two days. No one doing _anything_. Can I have that? I just want everyone to shut up and think about nothing and not have any _duties_ or_ ceremonies_ or _opinions_ or _hatred_ for forty-eight fucking hours; is that so much to ask?"

Spock considered the plea carefully before resting his hand on his captain's shoulder. "Yes," he answered simply. "It is."

.bdobd.

By late afternoon of the next day, Topos's corpse and the _Enterprise_'s medical team had been beamed into the Starfleet Medical HQ. McCoy'd probably finished up his presentation to the Admiralty and the Council's Sub-Council on Medicine and Medical Practices and Facilities. Everyone was back on the ship by seven o'clock, Terran Pacific Standard Time.

At around eight thirty, Barnett commed with more orders.

Jim was in the captain's chair, and he gawped. The commodore looked terrible. "You don't look well, sir," he said blankly.

Barnett raised a set of sarcastic brows. "I never would've guessed. I need you at the Klingon border."

"Why?" Kirk asked. "I've been talking to Nimeret, and he said that neither he or the shuttles have found any suspicious activity." Nimeret has also said that he thought the shuttle captains were 'the stupidest load of fuckers I've ever had the misfortune of working with, and their ships are crap, too'. He'd made some pretty fantastic claims about Barnett's leadership abilities, as well.

Jim figured that mentioning this wouldn't help the conversation along.

"We feel that the Alpha/Beta border is insecure," Barnett said.

The Klingon and Romulan neutral zones ran nearly parallel to the Alpha/Beta Quadrant divide. The Federation covered the majority of the Alpha Quadrant, and a little sliver of the Beta. The Cardassian Empire oozed over most of the Gamma Quadrant and dripped into the Alpha Quadrant at a strange diagonal angle. Most of the Federation's border was actually with the Cardassian Empire; the Klingon portion of the border was quite small in comparison.

"Commodore, there aren't any ships patrolling our whole Cardassian border," Kirk protested. "And we have a lot on the Klingon and Romulan lines."

"You're going to the Klingon border."

Jim repressed an aggravated sigh. "Yessir."

"Good," Barnett nodded. "Barnett out."

Spock had been holed away in his Sciences station, and slunk quietly over to Kirk. "We have already missed the opening ceremonies for the meeting with the Emissary," the hybrid pointed out.

Jim slumped in his seat, depressed. "I know. If we went _right now_ though, they might still let us in."

"Such is highly improbable. The Cardassians are consistent in their rituals: no one is to enter after the doors are shut after greetings."

"Yeah." He sighed out loud. "I wish we had been able to go. It feels stupid to have had to miss that kind of an opportunity."

"I find myself in agreement."

Jim snorted and looked up at Spock with a grin. Spock twinkled back. Jim could feel Uhura's hackles rise from across the bridge.

Time to leave. "Walk with me?" he asked.

Spock nodded. "Sulu, conn."

"Yes, Captain."

.bdobd.

Jim led them to a vacated Observation deck. There were railings installed in front of the gently sloped floor-to-ceiling windows, as if to ensure that no one tried to break through them, or something.

He leaned on one of the rails. "Why're these here? I never really understood the need."

Spock sidled up next to him, leaning quite a bit closer than he usually would. "I believe it is to ensure that the glass remains clear."

"It's to make sure that no one _scratches_ the _glass?_ This stuff is designed to protect against _meteors!_"

"Indeed," Spock nodded solemnly.

Jim chuckled and bent as close as he could to the clear barrier. Even stretching out his arm entirely, he was still a good three inches from the curved pane.

A pale hand reached over and covered his. Spock's fingers were long enough that, entwined, the two of them could just manage to smear fingerprints onto the window. Jim laughed softly and peered up at the odd Vulcan.

Spock tapped his nose to Jim's and curled closer, wrapping his free arm around the human's waist. Jim snuggled backwards and peered contemplatively at their tangled fingers, silhouetted against the black of space.

He grinned suddenly. "I thought Vulcan hands were really sensitive."

Spock tilted so that his head touched the back of Jim's. Jim felt him smile slightly. "They are."

"Voyeur."

"Of the most serious classification."

Jim exhaled sharply with amusement. "You're terrible."

"I have learned from experts."

Jim kicked his head back, squishing Spock's nose. He could feel the taller man blink against his hair. "Bah. I'm not all-out _terrible_. I'm just a pain in the ass. Ruins the fun."

"I disagree."

He eyed their disorderly jumble of fingers critically. "… Well," he finally admitted, "being terrible does have its advantages."

.bdobd.

Jim seemed entirely too pleased with himself on the trip back to the bridge. Uhura was clearly suspicious. Spock was having considerable difficulty drawing the color from his ears.

"Right!" Jim clapped his hands for attention, as if everyone did not look to him automatically every time he entered a room. "Barnett's an ass, but I don't want to get us all in trouble. I want a vote. You all know who the Emissary is for the Cardassians?"

Most of the Communications, Sciences, and Security departments raised their hands. Everyone else simply appeared confused.

"Humm." Jim appeared concerned, but not disappointed. "Sulu, get outta my chair."

The Lieutenant evacuated the area with clear relish. Jim was hitting his stride, and could no longer be stopped. Jim looked back to Spock quickly as he was sitting down. 'Is this alright by you?'

'I have no objections. I will follow and support the endeavor,' Spock nodded back.

Jim faced his crew with a huge grin. "Emissary of Cardassia," he began, thoroughly rolling his r's, "is the supreme leader of their empire. Sort of a constitutional monarchy, actually. There's a noble assembly that draws up laws, and the Emissary can veto. The Emissary can also make up her – always a female, the Emissary – own laws and present them to the assembly.

"Spock and I were invited to a meeting with the Emissary. We had to say no, because we couldn't be sure how long this Orion thing would take. Now, we can either go _back_ to the Cardassian border and try to patch things up there, _or_ we can go to the Klingon border and muck around with the _Odyssey-A_.

"I'd honestly rather go try and smooth things over with the Cardassians, but that'd been direct insubordination, and I don't want to get you all in trouble because I decided to be an idiot on my own. I'm not so worried about the rest of the crew; they can just say they didn't know what was going on and can be reassigned. God knows there's enough room for more experienced crewpeople.

"Cap'n Nimeret's got his ship – the _Odyssey-A_ – and five shuttlecraft to nose poke the Klingons with. There isn't anyone patrolling the Cardassian line exclusively now – Nimeav's sort of trudging along in the Lorentian system, but I don't feel that counts."

He threw himself back in his seat, totally content to let the bridge crew make a decision that had the potential to alter diplomatic relations within the entire Federation for decades.

"… I kind of like the captain's idea," Lieutenant Martan said softly.

"I do too," Uhura nodded.

"Are we sure this is really a good idea? I mean, we'd be too late to get to this ceremony thingy anyway, right?" one of the Security detail – Ensign Stephan – asked.

"Isn't it the though that counts?" Lieutenant Martan retorted.

Ensign Kipl'r, Lieutenant Uhura's third-in-command, made an indiscriminating noise. "That may not be true for residents of Cardassia," he pointed out. "It is possible that arriving so late may actually be rude. It would be presumptuous to arrive and expect to be allowed to the ceremony so late, yes?"

"What would we actually do when we got there?" Uhura asked thoughtfully. "It all kind of depends on that, doesn't it."

Spock waited for Kirk to answer, but Kirk appeared content to let his crew decode what he wished to do. "… It would be difficult to convince the Cardassian guard to allow us entry," Spock admitted, "but making some sort of appearance would be better viewed than entirely ignoring the ceremony."

"Make it look like we tried our hardest to come, and all that?" Lieutenant Sulu clarified.

"Exactly."

"… I'd go for that," Ensign Stephan remarked.

"Yeah, that sounds good to me," Lieutenant Martan agreed.

"So, are we agreed?" Uhura asked the bridge. "We go and say we tried to arrive on time?"

The bridge complement nodded more or less in unison. Uhura turned to the captain with a respectful grin. "Captain, I think we've got a plan."

Jim spun towards her playfully. "Shoot."

"We go and say that we tried hard to make the ceremony, but couldn't because of a bureaucratic cock-up."

"So, tell the truth?"

Uhura considered this carefully before nodding. "… Yes, sir. Something like that."

"Excellent choice!" Jim beamed. "Always the best one, I think. Sulu!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Warp 8 to the border! We're not abandoning _anybody_ without a fight!"

The _Enterprise_ hummed with anticipation. Lieutenant Sulu smiled. "Yes, sir!"

.bdobd.


	20. Interviews with Cardassians

A/N: Sorry this took so long; I had to rewrite my outlines for the rest of the story. As my outlines are stupidly detailed, and contain every red herring and plot twist I ever _dreamed _putting in here, this took quite some time. BTW, has anyone ever heard of a blog called Hyperbole and a Half? I found it today, and it's hilarious. I highly recommend it.

Mazeltov: 'Congratulations' in Yiddish

.bdobd.

It took two really uncomfortable days to get to the Cardassian border. Jim's complete confidence in his own abilities had started to wear off by the time Spock pulled him aside to ask if Jim had to be quite so _blatant_ about their 'status as companions' while on duty.

They'd had to have two more extensive conversations about the proportional appropriateness of their togetherness before they'd decided on a plan of action. Jim still was not _entirely_ sure what that plan was, so he figured he'd just behave as though Pike were in the room, and flirt if Spock made a move.

And during all of that, there was the whole explaining-the-mutiny-to-the-rest-of-the-crew-thing, which alone was enough to want to make him bang his head against the wall until his brain just gave up the ghost and collapsed, soufflé-like, in upon itself.

These were, he decided, the truly excellent reasons he had totally forgotten to plan a speech for when they actually got to the place they were trying to get to: the Cardassian border.

The Legate-that-was-rather-disturbingly-not-Kell glared petulantly at him from the main screen. "You did not speak with the Emissary after an invitation had been extended," he stated churlishly.

Kirk tried not to squirm. "I could not promise such because I have primary duties to my government, which required my services in another area. Is there someway I may compensate for being unable to attend this important event?"

The Legate sprawled back into his chair with an air of offended condescension. "No."

Well, fuck, _that_ was useful. Kirk bowed his head in apology. "I again state my displeasure at being called away from the meeting; I would have gone had I been allocated the recourses to do so."

"This is understood," the Legate said agreeably, to the surprise of everyone on the bridge, "and it is not you, nor the _Enterprise_, to whom we direct our irritation; it is the Federation as a whole."

"… Your understanding is appreciated," Jim said slowly, trying to avoid war, "but your contempt towards our government is rather distressing."

The Cardassian considered that deeply. "… I suppose it could have that affect upon natives of the Federation," he finally allowed.

This conversation was clearly going nowhere. At best, the Legate would stick to his original conviction of _Enterprise_ = good, Federation = bad; at worst, Kirk would manage to offend him so much that the _Enterprise_ would be included into the bad-Federation package and would be fired upon.

"I have not been able to gather much information about Captain Tyr Dejan. Has there been any development regarding her fate within the Empire?" Kirk asked, referring to the Cardassian captain that'd been sent back to the Empire months ago.

The Legate thought deeply about the question. "… Do you still wish to see her?" He asked slowly.

"Yes. Why?"

"… What are the coordinates of your transporter pad?"

Jim felt his eyes bug slightly and sent a desperate look over to Spock. Spock was blinked quietly at the Legate with almost unrestrained surprise.

Kirk reached for Giotto's comm link on the arm of his chair. "Giotto, prep transporter room Green Alpha," he ordered.

There was a slight pause before Giotto responded. "Yes, sir."

Kirk read off the coordinates for the moderate-security brig to the Legate. There was a good chance the Cardassian would take the transfer as an opportunity to board the ship and take it over. "Our transporter room is at 34/47 degrees by 21. Is that acceptable?"

The Legate looked at someone to his left, and then nodded to Kirk. "We begin."

An awkward silence hung as the Cardassians worked to beam one of their high security prisoners, one who was probably scheduled for execution, onto the flagship of the fleet of a rival government.

"We have her," Uhura announced. Kirk nodded pleasantly to the Legate.

"I thank you for your assistance. I am pleased to have been a part of such a successful negotiation."

The Legate seemed almost surprised. "You are not going to ask after your misplaced ship? The former worker here noted your interest in the matter."

Jim thanked a few deities for the excellent Cardassian record system. "I had not realized you had obtained any new information, and did not wish to irritate you with inane questions," he answered honestly. "If you have any additional data, I would be most appreciative of being able to receive it."

The Legate called something up on a holoscreen. "Your captain, he was accused by the Council of stealing our technology."

"What?" Kirk asked, offended. "That's impossible. If anyone was going to copy any of your designs, it would be my ship; we've had the most contact with you. And it is clear that such is not the case," he added quickly.

"Be that as it may," the Legate continued, "he was sent to the Klingons for questioning."

"I am to assume, then, that the Klingon war is over?"

"It was an honorable retreat."

But just who was it that retreated? Did the Klingons now have control of the Cardassian home world? "I thank you for this information," Kirk murmured. "I find myself able to complete my duties more efficiently because of this. May you and your family go with pride."

"And to you, Captain Kirk."

Jim signed off and stared into middle distance. "Well, _that_ was weird."

"No kidding," Uhura said with some measure of awe. "They actually sent the captain."

"Seriously?" Jim swiveled to look at her.

"Yeah, Giotto's already sent her to one of McCoy's moderate-security rooms; apparently she's been beaten a few times and needs recovery."

"It is unusual for someone in her position to be alive," Spock said bluntly.

"I'm surprised they beamed her over so quickly; that kind of a prisoner transfer can't be the norm."

"I agree; that would be highly irregular."

"What about the idea that _Menthe _stole Cardassian tech?" Jim asked the room.

"I do not ewen know how he vould manage it," Chekov commented blandly. "How could he hawe gotten ze plans in ze first place?"

"That sounds really fishy," Sulu agreed. "I think he made a move they saw as threatening and just wanted an excuse to put him in prison."

"That does not, however, explain where the _Excalibur II_ and the entirety of its crew are," Spock remarked. "Also, there is the more immediate threat of the ire of the Cardassian Empire being directed towards the Federation."

Sounds of agreement circled the bridge. "Not much we can really _do_ about that, though," Lieutenant Martan pointed out.

There was some more general agreement to this. It looked like the best the _Enterprise_ could hope for was to not be assigned to a border patrol of the Klingon or Romulan sectors, and pray that no other Federation ships pissed off the Cardassians.

.bdobd.

The captain retired to his quarters after the shift was completed. "I need to tell the Admirals about the Cardassians," he mentioned in the turbolift. "Don't wait up for me. It's gonna take a while."

They had been meeting in Jim's quarters after every shift since the day they began their insubordinate mission to the Cardassian border. The trend was now to be broken, apparently.

Spock repressed an illogical feeling of disappointment and continued on his way to the moderate security wing of the Medical bays. The guards stationed in the hall saluted quietly and moved aside to allow him entry.

"What the _HELL_ do ya' think you're doin'?" Doctor McCoy yelled. "Out!"

"It seemed prudent to monitor the progress of the Cardassian captain," Spock said, ignoring the order. McCoy had emerged from an alcove in a full lather and seemed to be preparing to fight Spock to the death.

"_I'm_ the doctor here, and _I_ am monitoring her." He pointed expressively to the soundproofed recovery room that was currently hidden by a cleverly deployed system of curtains. "_You_ are the first officer, and _you_ are off making sure the Admiralty doesn't order us to do something stupid!"

Spock considered this unusually lucid argument, bowed, pivoted sharply, and left to go help the captain.

James was at his desk, staring blandly into a screen glowing brightly in an otherwise entirely unlit room. Spock's entry threw a beam of white light halfway across the gloom, halting the conversation between the blonde and whomever he was speaking with.

The door closed with a pneumatic hiss, and Jim returned to his conversation. "It's Spock," he stated, "we're fine."

"Oh, good, bring him over," Admiral R'Vish ordered. Spock walked quietly to where he could be seen by the people on the holoscreen.

Admirals Pike, Nestly, and R'Vish stared at him with obvious relief. "There you are," Pike sighed. "Jim's been saying something about the Cardassians hating all of the Federation _but_ the _Enterprise._"

"'It is not you, nor the _Enterprise_, to whom we direct our irritation; it is the Federation as a whole,'" Spock quoted softly.

"Well, _fuck,_" Admiral R'Vish blinked. "That's not good."

"God damn it, how're we supposed to combat that shit?" Admiral Nestly asked no one in particular. Spock had to remind himself that Pike was unusual, that most Admirals had a rather explicit vocabulary.

"Did you tell them about Captain Tyr Dejan?" Spock asked Jim.

"Yeah," Jim mouthed, "and they weren't happy about it."

"What're you two muttering about?" Pike demanded.

"He wanted to know if I'd told you about Dejan," Jim said into his palms. The Admirals all groaned.

"That's so weird," Admiral R'Vish stated emphatically. "That's _so_ weird. Why would they just _give _her to you?"

"Did the captain speak to you about the fate of Captain Menthe?" Spock asked her.

She nodded. "Sent to the Klingons for interrogation after being accused of stealing Cardassian plans. I called Bolim to get Nimeret to ask about it."

Jim raised his head from his palms and rubbed exhaustedly at his eyes. "Could it be true?" he asked. "Could the contractors who built the ship have been Cardassian defectors?"

"Anything's possible with contractors," Admiral Nestly shrugged. "I'll send you the liability forms if you're interested; they'll've been signed by the company who manufactured all of the parts."

"I will examine them," Spock said. Admiral Nestly nodded and began to shuffle the PADDs on his cluttered desk, clearly searching for something he had not looked for in years.

Pike seemed amused. "Don't run my first officer down, Jim," he said to the captain. "He's the best you're going to get."

Jim smiled at his mentor. "I know. But he knows what he can handle better than I can, usually."

That was not true, Spock reflected. Jim usually had more confidence in his abilities than he did, and Jim was usually correct. Admiral R'Vish rolled her eyes and grinned at them all. "You seem to have a solid plan," she said. "I'll call Tranya and let her know."

"Alright. Say hello for me, will you?" Jim asked. The admiral nodded happily, exposing the slightly teal splotches that ringed her hairline. The Academy faculty had a betting pool as to what the markings revealed; Spock had been pressured to add money to the pot in his second year of teaching and now had twenty credits that's fate was totally dependant on whether or not the admiral was of an unrecognized minority member species.

She signed off, which cued Admiral Nestly to do the same. A lone hand could be seen scrabbling ineffectively across his desk as he searched for the disconnect command. He eventually found it, and Pike was soon the only person left on the screen.

"How's it been?" he asked.

"Fine." Jim looked to him for permission to reveal their courtship status. "We're dating, now."

"Seriously?" Pike appeared surprised. "Well, fuck, there goes my fifty credits."

Jim laughed. "Who'd you bet?"

"Your mother."

"Really?" Jim squinted at the older man. "Why'd you do that?"

"… She asked me to."

"Oh, Pike!" Jim sounded exasperated. "You're not –?"

"It's not like I wanted to!" Pike was blushing furiously.

Jim sighed dramatically. "At least I won't have any surprise siblings," he muttered. "Mazeltov."

Pike was spluttering as Jim cut the connection. Spock tapped his shoulder in query. "Pike's in love with my mother."

"… Fascinating."

Jim snorted. "Yeah, no shit." He sighed again. "Damnit, I don't think this'll end well."

"The situation with the Cardassians, or the relationship between your mother and the admiral."

"… Well, both, actually." He ran his hands through his hair and groaned. "Nimeret's in charge of finding Menthe, now, so that's not gonna be good. And my mom's an ambassador; she can't be fraternizing with an admiral."

"We are not allowed to fraternize, either," Spock reminded Jim. The human knit his fingers behind his head and beamed up at Spock.

"It's more common, though," he argued. "I know Pike had something with Number One a while back."

"He did?"

"You didn't know?" Jim swiveled around to face him. "I thought everyone did."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Apparently not." Jim grinned and him and stood to wrap his arms around Spock's waist. "… That is distracting," Spock said reproachfully. Jim snorted with amusement and burrowed deeper into his neck.

.bdobd.

They'd talked about the consequences of what'd happened with the Cardassians for a good two hours before Spock had excused himself to go to the labs. There was Intriguing Phenomena brewing, he'd been assured, and they could not be missed. Jim had pointed out that every other ship had a Sciences department, and from what he could tell they ran just fine without their department head observing every single experiment.

Spock had made a few detrimental comments about the quality of the work of the other ships, and Jim had laughed, and Spock had left. Jim had puttered about for another half hour pretending to do paperwork, and then had given up the charade and gone to bed.

Bones woke him up way too early to tell him that Captain Tyr Dejan wanted to talk to him.

"Now?" he asked blearily.

"_Now_. She just woke up from reconstructive surgery, you can get down here to at least _pretend_ you're happy she's here," Bones growled.

"I _am_ happy she's here," Jim argued, rolling out of bed and hunting for a clean-ish undershirt. "I just don't see why she's asking for me at," he looked at the clock, "four sixteen in the morning."

"She's still on Cardassian time, and I'm workin' her off slowly. And if ya make one _peep_ about it, I'll feed ya your own eyes," the doctor threatened.

"Yezzir," Jim muttered. "I'll be down in a few; I'm looking for pants."

Tyr Dejan was being kept in Medical until all of her wounds were healed, which could take a few weeks, according to Nurse Chapel. "So nothing strenuous," she ordered sternly.

What did she think he'd do, jump the poor thing? She was recovering from _torture_. He made a few comforting noises and was admitted into the recovery room.

Tyr Dejan was propped into a full body slump by a very determined mound of pillows. The poor woman looked like she was drowning in what must have amounted to at least half of the ship's supply of off-white linen. Her skin was a sickly greenish gray, had gone oddly purple around her neck ridges.

"… You look awful," Jim said bluntly. "Are you feeling any better?"

She raised a tremulous arm and made a faint wishy-washy symbol. Jim laughed and sat in a chair next to her bed. "Can you talk?"

"A small amount," she rasped. It sounded like her throat had been removed, put through a grain thresher, and then put back into her backwards. "It is not recommended by the doctor, however."

"You've met Doctor McCoy."

"Indeed." She raised her eyebrows at him. "You are in command of a very interesting specimen, Captain."

Jim snorted. "That's one way of putting it, I guess."

"The assistants in this area are kind."

"The nurses are really nice, yeah. Have they told you what's going on?"

"They said that they did not know what information was classified."

So they hadn't told her anything. "Alright. You're on the _Enterprise_, which is the flagship of Starfleet, the military branch of the Federation's government. You were beamed over by the people who were in custody of you. We're moving away from the border right now, but we're not flying anywhere in particular. You'll probably be called to Earth to talk to the Admiralty – my superiors – eventually, but they haven't given that order yet."

She nodded at him and relaxed against her pillow hill. "I am not to be imprisoned, then."

"No. You've done nothing wrong, by our laws. You were ordered to attack us. You were just doing your job."

She hummed and reached for the water glass that was on the bedside table next to Jim. He handed it to her and she drank deeply from the cup. "No straw?" he asked.

She looked at him blankly. "What is a 'straw'?"

"It's a tube put into liquids. It can make it easier to drink when one is injured."

"Oh." She picked up the clear plastic cylinder from the expanse of sheets next to her and twirled it between her fingers. "That is what this is. I had wondered."

Kirk smiled before straightening his back and putting on his captain's voice. "Do you know anything about the Federation captain named Douglas Menthe?"

Tyr Dejan nodded. "He was killed by the Empire," she answered quickly, "for stealing our technology. When the Empire realized that it had made a mistake, they lied and said that he was sent to the Klingons."

"Why did they do that? They could just as easily have said that he'd been lost in an ion storm or something."

"They wish to sow discord between you two. They fear that you will unite, as you did near your Starbase."

That made a certain amount of sense. Tahn, while an egotistical _idiot_, had actually helped defeat the Cardassian ships when Starbase XI was attacked. Though, Jim would never say that out loud. "What of the Romulans?"

"Your hatred for them is well known," she said bluntly. "It is understandable, perhaps, after the destruction of one of your more prized species. Also, they know of an impending supernova that is to destroy their sun, one that will behave unpredictably. They are in no position to attack us."

Kirk raised his eyebrows at the 'one of the more prized species' comment, but let it slide. "True. They've been a bit distracted. But they'll regroup sometime soon."

She shrugged. "Their ships are weak. We are unsure as to how they managed to create a weapon strong enough to explode your Vulcan planet, but that ship was an obvious outlier. We are unconcerned with them."

"Clearly," he murmured, and leaned back in his chair. "Is there any other information you think I should know of?"

She considered the question carefully. "… Do you know of your captains, Mahor and Pachek, and the ship the _Illustrious_?"

Jim straightened abruptly. "No one has had any contact with them since two Standard weeks after our confrontation at the Starbase. Do you know of them?" They'd been classified as 'killed in action', but –

"They were killed," Tyr Dejan was rubbing anxiously at her wrists. "They went too close to our borders and were taken captive. The _Illustrious_ was also captured, and was to be examined, but the engines were in poor condition after the pursuit necessary to capture the captains."

"So the _Illustrious _was taken into custody – I'm assuming the crew was executed?"

The Cardassian nodded glumly. "Alright, so that's one ship – what about Pachek's ship; she was the _Eureka._"

"It was returned," she said blankly. "Did you somehow misplace two ships?"

Jim narrowed his eyes and stared at the edge of the bed, going over the christening ceremonies for every ship. The _Enterprise_ got her official send-off the day that he took the captain's chair; the _Salient_'s was delayed because construction hadn't been completed; Nimeav, Nimeret, and Topos all had copies of previous ship designs…

"Oh my god." His eyes widened. "They just _renamed it._"

She blinked at him. "I do not understand."

Jim shot up and began to pace the room. "The _Excalibur II_, Menthe's ship," he said urgently, "it appeared out of nowhere. No one could really tell where it'd popped up from; everyone said he was lucky to get a ship so quickly when all of the other captains had to wait a month after being assigned for their ships to be built. But Menthe was just Mahor's replacement! The _Excalibur II_ _is_ the _Illustrious_; the Admiralty just renamed it and sent Menthe off in a ship they knew'd been examined by the Cardassian Empire!"

"Surely there is some law against that."

"Dozens!" He pivoted sharply to avoid crashing into a wall. "You have to make sure the crew is safe; you can't just reassign as ship that's been inspected by an enemy Empire! You have to change at least sixty percent of the interior layout of the ship to make sure that the Medical bays can't be exclusively targeted, or that the photon torpedoes can't be shot off. It's not _safe_. I can't _believe_ –! Well, actually," he stopped short and stared introspectively out of a one-way window, "I can believe it, but it's sickening."

He could almost hear Tyr Dejan blinking with bemusement behind him. Jim turned around and sat next to her on the bed. "Thank you," he said sincerely, ignoring her incredibly disturbed expression. "You've been extremely helpful. I'll leave you alone now."

He shot off of the bed and dove for the door. "You are welcome," she responded sarcastically. He took the time to bow to her as he left, then closed the door and dashed off to go tell Spock everything he'd just heard.

.bdobd.


	21. An Ethical Discussion

A/N: After reading all of the bloody AMAZING reviews I got for chapter 20, I got the itch to write more. Thank you for the inspiration, you beautiful people with keyboards! :D

A rear admiral lower half is the very very lowest rank of admiral there is.

Talos IV is where the episodes 'The Menagerie' (parts one and two) take place. If you don't know what that is, then there is no hope for you: go watch those episodes now.

There is less than no information on the planet Andoria. It's icy, it's the moon of a gas giant, and the cities are underground. That is literally all I can find. If someone has any other information they can give to me, I would be so dweebishly happy that I'd embarrass _myself._ I named the city where Tishri's office used to be 'Shras' in chapter 2 of Without Direction, so I'm just going to stick with that.

Thraan is the most masculine of the four Andorian sexes. Thiir is like madam or sir, and is a title only used for those of the thraan gender.

.bdobd.

Jim had come to his quarters in the early morning and had attempted to inform him of various details that former Captain Tyr Dejan had revealed. The human was, unfortunately, too stimulated to formulate a coherent sentence, and Spock had been forced to shake him once, sharply, to get him to articulate entire thoughts.

"I want you," the blonde panted, "to look up the _Excalibur II_'s blueprints and see if they mirror anything on the _Enterprise_. I think the Cardassians have copies of the _Excalibur II_'s plans and I need to make sure the _Enterprise_ isn't hurt. Okay?"

Spock had nodded blandly, agreed to the order, and then asked how he knew of the Cardassian inspections. Jim had gone off on a furious tangent about the late captain Mahor and his relation to Menthe and a possible Klingo-Federation alliance, and Spock had shaken him again.

Jim had promised to explain the entire story to him later, and had marched smartly across the hall to the captain's quarters, where he then requested Spock's help in getting the door open because it was stuck, a state that he assured Spock was not his fault.

They had discovered the door to be locked from the inside, and so Jim had slept three hours curled upon Spock's prayer rug. It was unlikely that the rather pungent smell of tired human male could ever be totally eliminated.

Spock decided that it would be prudent to exit the room before Jim did, so as to try and silence some of the more graphic rumors he had been overhearing in the mess hall. He made his way to the data computer banks, entered his identification number, and began to read.

.bdobd.

"We have to do _WHAT?_" Bones shrieked. Jim held up his hands in a poor attempt at placation.

"I don't like it either, and they aren't my orders, they're the admirals'. They just want to _talk_ to her –,"

"Do you know what she's been through; what she's healing from?"

"Well, patient confidentiality says that I don't, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me right now."

"They _hung_ her," Bones growled, "from a metal hook. For a _week_. I just finished her _third_ reconstructive surgery to try to get her shoulders to work again! She is in no condition to sit in a hard chair with no supports for _eight hours_ to talk to a bunch of people who don't want to hear what she has to say!"

"I'm not _saying_ it's a good idea," Jim ground out, "I'm saying these are my _orders_. We're already in hot water for having picked her up in the _first_ place; if I don't do what they want now I'm not sure I'll be able to keep everyone's jobs!"

"That's bullshit and you know it. _You're _the captain, _you _gave the order, _you'll_ be in trouble. She's _hurt_, Jim. She can't do what they want her to, not right now. A week isn't enough to recover from months of abuse!"

"On any other ship that'd be true, yes, but the decision to go to the border was made by the _entire bridge crew_. _Not_ just me. If we're court martialed I'll be in deep shit, yeah, but I'm pretty safe. They've been using me to recruit cadets for almost a _year_ now; they can't really kick me out. But Uhura? And Martan? And Kipl'r and Uragna and Teran, they're not going to be saved."

"But Jim," Bones pleaded, "you've got to stop this. She _can't go_. She'll be hurt, and I don't know if I can fix that!"

Jim stared out of the one way window Bones had in his office. "I can slow us down," he said finally. "Not for long, but it'll be something."

"How long?"

"A week. I think. It depends on how hospitable the Andorians are feeling."

"The Andorians? What the hell are you talking about?"

"The new junior Councilman for Andoria," Jim explained. "Tishri's replacement. When she took the Starbase XI job the delegatory party from Andoria was one person short – some idiot assumed she'd be fine with a rear negotiator lower half sort of thing, but she wasn't interested."

Bones snorted and settled back in his chair, smiling evilly up at where Jim leaned on the edge of the desk. "Tishri? Take a lower position? Never. She's all or nothing, that one."

"No shit," Jim grinned. "There was a special election for the new junior Councilperson. I've been meaning to make nice with him for a while now; we can stop off at Andoria on our way to Starfleet HQ to pay him a special visit."

"Ah, Jim," Bones shook his head with mock horror, "buttering up Councilmen? You're not turning into a politician on me, are you?"

"Trying my best not, to," Jim said with a shrug, "but I'm definitely beginning to see why it's useful.

"Think about it. With Tishri and this new guy on my side, the _Enterprise_ has got a guaranteed supportive base in Andoria. Earth likes us already, and Vulcan II feels like it owes us: that's three of the four founding planets right there. I'm friends with Pike, who's got roots in the Talos VI region and with the Starfleet old brass. Spock's – well, he's Spock, he's got ties everywhere. He and his father made a lot of diplomatic trips when he was young; he knows more people than he thinks he does.

"All of that means shore leave and docking locations available 24/7 across the Federation. _And_ it frees up supplies for us. I bet you I can even get those vaccinations you wanted – anti-inflammation after venomous bites, right?"

Bones nodded.

"Tishri's got connections to a pharmaceutical supply company," Jim continued. "And that company's got outlets all over Andoria. I'll have Uhura talk to them and see if I can get you the shots. But I couldn't _do_ that if I wasn't connected to Tishri!"

"But ya didn't get friendly with her because of her _connections_," Bones pointed out. "Ya did it because of geography and necessity. The stuff that's happening now isn't because of any particularly good move on your part, it's because of luck. I don't think it's right to bug this poor little guy because of his _friends._"

"Bones, he expects me to," Jim said flatly. "He'll be confused if I don't ask him for _something_."

Bones considered this for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "And?" he asked. "What, you gonna start living up to _other people's_ expectations, all of a sudden?"

.bdobd.

Jim was in his quarters, chewing over the problem about the Andorian Councilman, when Spock pressed for entry. "Come in!" Jim shouted from the bed.

He heard the door open and Spock pause as the Vulcan took in the great swaths of bedding Jim had managed to cover with his determined sprawl. "You are troubled."

"I'm thinking deeply. That's not _automatically _distressing. I'm not that stupid."

"I did not accuse you of such," Spock pointed out as he sat on the side of the bed. "You are reacting defensively to statements that you know are not motivated by negative impulses."

Jim sighed and rolled onto his side to face his Vulcan. "I'm trying to slow down the ship to let Bones have more time to heal Tyr Dejan, and it's thrown me into a place that I really don't want to be in."

He kind of hoped that Spock would take this as a cue to lie down next to him, but the hybrid just laid a warm hand on his upper arm. "Is there any assistance I can offer?"

"At what point is making a social connection with a person considered an unethical action?"

Spock took a moment to think before answering. "… If the action is motivated by greed, avarice, or malicious intent, than it is never ethical," he said finally.

"Alright." Jim propped himself up on one elbow. "I was considering speaking with the junior Councilman from Andoria for the sole purpose of using that connection _later_ to obtain goods or favors for the ship. Now, I understand that he is also probably going to use his connections to _me_ for his own personal gain, and I'm fine with that. Is forging a social connection with someone, just so you can tell others _about_ said connection, unethical if the person you're forging with is going to turn around and do the exact same goddamn thing the moment you're gone?"

He could see Spock working to unravel the convoluted sentence in his head. "The most important factor," he answered slowly, "appears to be whether or not both parties are cognizant of the intentions behind the visit in question."

"… Yes," Jim said with a nod, "I agree."

"There is no way, in Standard, to ask the intentions of another without bestowing considerable insult, is there."

"… Not in this instance, no."

Spock narrowed his eyes at the wall above Jim's head. "I will consider the matter. Two days must pass before we reach Andoria. We have some time."

"I guess." Jim gently nosed the hand that was on his arm. "I know you didn't come here for that, though. What's up?"

"… I am going to assume the latter query was rhetorical."

"That'd be a good idea. What were your original reasons for coming to see me?"

"You requested a report on the diagnostics of the _Excalibur II _as compared to the _Enterprise_."

"Oh, yes!" Jim sat up and reached for the PADD that Spock had brought in. "Lemme see."

Spock looked terribly amused, but didn't say anything. "The _Excalibur II_, you will recall, has a shape dissimilar from the _Enterprise_." A simple flat drawing appeared on the PADD's small holoscreen. The _Enterprise_'s nacelles extended straight back from her body, which was connected to the large control disk by a vertical torpedo bank. The _Excalibur II_'s control disk sat on top of its body like a frog on a stick; the body was turned 90º so that it was horizontal, and its nacelles tacked onto the sides of the body.

The _Enterprise_ really was the prettier ship.

Mahor had had a great time of accusing her of being 'cocky', though: all those vertical diagonal angles had convinced him that the designer was trying to compensate for _something_. Jim had told him that at least his 'compensation' _looked _good; at the end of the day the _Excalibur II_ (or the _Illustrious, _really) still looked like an amphibian trying to curl itself into a fetal position.

"Because of the difference in hull structure, much of the interior of the ship has no relation to any of the _Enterprise_'s floor plans." And interior sketch of the ships was layered over the hull shot: the _Enterprise_ had dozens of kilometers of nearly vertical Jefferies tubing, while the _Excalibur II_ (or the _Illustrious_) had a pretty simple tube-and-turbolift setup.

"So, we're fine?" Jim asked.

"I believe so," Spock said with a nod. "The only similarity that exists between the two ships is the placement of the shield generators; both have them along the rim of the control disk. But the _Enterprise_ also has shield generators along the body of the ship and on the ends of her nacelles; both modifications are changes that you ordered, and so are not a fleet wide standard."

"That's good," Jim sighed. Even the Medical bays were in different spots. "I was worried."

"Why?"

"Ah. Right." Jim flushed as the memory of his desperately incomprehensible babblings at five o'clock in the morning resurfaced. "Okay, so, I went to talk to Captain Tyr Dejan, right?"

"You informed me of this, yes."

"She said that when the Cardassians went after Mahor and Pachek in the _Illustrious _and the _Eureka_, the _Eureka _was somehow destroyed and the _Illustrious_'s engines were roasted. The Empire then had access to the _Illustrious_ for about two months before they pushed it back into our space. What happens next isn't _quite_ clear, but it looks like the Admiralty somehow found the _Illustrious_, renamed her the _Excalibur II_, and gave her to Douglas Menthe as fast as they could."

Spock's eyes had gone wide. "… I… That would significantly reduce the amount of credits required to build a new ship, yes."

"Exactly. But I don't think they changed the internal design at all."

"They did not. I was a professor at the time the _Illustrious_ was launched; I inspected her laboratories beforehand. The laboratories of the _Excalibur II_ were in the same area and contained the same equipment as the _Illustrious_ did."

"'Were'?" Jim asked. "Do you know something I don't?"

"If the Cardassian Empire somehow captured the _Excalibur II_, they would declare it property returned to them by the Federation. It is one of the main reasons every captured ship must later be refitted; there are a variety of cultures that feel that once captured, a ship actually belongs to them, that they only return the craft out of good faith afterwards."

"So, they think that we gave them the _Excalibur II _back?"

"Negative. They realize that we wish to retain our vessels. They probably feel that that particular craft is at least partially theirs, and that they will not be as badly punished for taking that ship instead of another Starfleet vessel."

"Oh _god_," Jim groaned. "They'll _never_ give it back."

"I doubt that they would, yes," Spock said with a shrug. "However, the capture of that ship guarantees that its replacement will at least actually be a different craft."

.bdobd.

The new junior Councilman of Andoria was very happy that Jim could make it.

"I'm so happy you could make it," he gushed happily. "I know you're very busy."

Jim's hands were stuffed firmly in his pockets. He watched with a vague amusement as the thin man bustled around the office trying to clear off a horizontal surface to sit on.

The office wasn't large, but it did have a great view, which was really difficult on Andoria. All of the cities were underground – the surface of the planet was just too cold to support life – and so most windows looked out onto other people's windows. The junior Councilman had nabbed a room with a panoramic view of Shras, the Andorian's capitol city.

"Here we are!" the junior Councilman cheerfully declared. Jim took one of the offered horizontal areas; it was doubtful that the spot he was on was originally designed for sitting. The Andorian hadn't given himself a very good spot either, though, so it was fine.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

"Oh, it was no problem!" the Councilman beamed. "I've gotten few visitors here; Thras deals with most of the foreign – I'm sorry, _non-native_ people who want to talk to us."

Thras must be the senior Councilman. Jim started to feel really terrible for coming in with an agenda; this guy seemed genuinely nice. "Why doesn't he send any to you, for practice?"

"If any non-Andorian wants to talk to us," the man said with a wince, "you know that they're furious about something. I just got in here, and I'm still learning about the bills that passed twenty or thirty years ago. People don't like to talk to someone who doesn't know what they want him to."

Jim flinched sympathetically. "I'm lucky; I've got a first officer and a chief of Security that know the regulations like the backs of their hands. It would suck to have to go it alone."

"I've got good staff. It's just that they're all from –,"

"Thras's collection, and they tell you to just let him take care of everything."

"Exactly," the man grinned. "But I've been able to do a bit with the Cardassian issues we've been having; Thras is a bit confused by them."

"Cardassians?"

The Councilman nodded. "They're not an _issue_, really. They just call at weird times, asking about people we've never heard of."

Jim blinked. "What? They've never done that with me."

"… You've talked to them?"

"Yeah. You didn't know? I'm sort of the field expert in the Fleet."

"Really?" the man sounded very intrigued. "And you've never had that happen?"

"Not once," Jim answered with a shake of the head. "It's not prank calling, you can be certain of that: the Empire doesn't let civilians have comm units. Anyone who has the recourses to call you is a government worker of some kind."

"Well, there goes that idea," the man said wryly. "We haven't had much success in tracking the calls, but we think they're coming from the same people over and over again. I was thinking bored rich kids, but…"

"No, that's definitely not it." Jim crossed his arms and went to lean back in his seat, only to be rudely reminded that he wasn't actually sitting in a chair. He flailed a bit in an attempt to get upright, then tried to pretend that he had not been doing so.

The Councilman repressed a smile, but didn't laugh outright, which Jim was grateful for. "Do border guards have access to free comm units?"

"Oh yeah, they have loads of them so that they have no reason to miss reporting someone breaking their borders."

"Because, come to think of it, they might've just been listing ships that'd come too close to their line."

"I'll bet you that's it," Jim agreed with a nod. "They're actually pretty decent people – their government is _fucked up_, but they're good people. And they know they won't win a war with us. They're probably trying to warn you without pissing you off."

The man shuffled under one of the many piles of paper for a comm link. He seemed to find what he was looking for, because in a few seconds he was orating to the messy 'stack': "Shree, could you check up on those Cardassian name lists again? Match them to the names of travel and merchant crafts, this time."

There was some inarticulate grumbling before a wan, "Yes, Thiir Anjrew."

Aha! The man's name was Anjrew! And he was thraan. Facsinating.

Anjrew squirmed slightly as he turned back to Jim. "They're usually pretty well behaved," he said apologetically, apparently talking about his staff, "but I've been hounding them about this Cardassian thing."

"My crew can get the same way without a shore leave," Jim grinned. "People are people."

Anjrew nodded with a pleasant hum. "True. Now," he smiled, "I _know_ you didn't come here to talk to me about Cardassians. If you had, you would've just ordered us around from space, not popped down here to talk to me. What's going on?"

Jim and Spock had exhausted the list of things to say at this particular moment, but Jim didn't really feel like lying to the man. "Honestly? I know Tishri, and I don't know Thras, and you seemed like a nicer guy to talk to."

Anjrew's eyes widened and he burst out laughing. "Oh praise the _gods_ it's not just me!" he chuckled. "I was so worried you were here about that damned tax bill."

"Tax bill? What tax bill?"

"Andoria just voted on a bill to increase taxes on the highest five percent of the income bracket," he explained. "That just barely includes the Commodore and the head Admiral. I thought they'd sent you down here to yell at me!"

"No, no," Jim grinned. "That's Barnett and Archer, not Pike. And what do I care what their taxes are? It's not like it'll affect me."

"True, true, but you never know." Anjrew got up to ruffle around the innards of a cabinet. "Alcohol?"

"That sounds great, actually." Jim took another look around the office while Anjrew shuffled about for glasses. "This is a really nice office, now that I look at it."

Anjrew snorted. "When you clear off the piles of papers, yeah, it's a good room."

"It only looks like a bomb went off in a _little_ library," Jim argued glibly. "You should see my chief Medical officer's. It's like someone threw a grenade into the Tellaritian Records Facility."

"Great gods," Anjrew said with mock horror. "There'd be bindings everywhere."

"And glue, paper glue dust over _everything_. Mm, thank you." The drink was amber and small, so it had the potential to be everything from brandy to a badly mixed Cardassian Sunrise. Jim downed it in a gulp.

Anjrew stared at him. "… Did you just do that in one –?"

"I'm solid," Jim thumped his chest once for emphasis. "And dense. I can take a lot of intoxicants before I collapse."

Anjrew raised a very Spockish brow. "Clearly."

Jim beamed and tried and failed to lean back again. "What's up with the whole no-chairs thing?"

Anjrew shrugged. "They just become more space to stack things. I've got tables and benches scattered around; I figure if someone pops over _here _for a visit chances are they'll know me well enough not to get offended."

"And how's _that_ been working out for you?"

"Well enough. It makes the reporters laugh."

"Oh, you poor thing," Jim looked upon him with genuine pity. "I'm so sorry."

Anjrew snorted into his cup. "She's the same one you had, I think. Z-something Nowmi."

"Zarabeth?" Jim asked with considerable surprise. "What's she doing here? She's on the French political beat."

"She got upstaged by her Vulcan assistant when your Commander was caught spilling confidential information in a French bar."

Jim winced. "Ah. Yeah."

"Sorry."

He sighed and stared at his empty glass. "No, no, it's fine. We're past it." He took a deep breath. "So, seriously, what's she trying to cover here?"

"The taxes thing. It affects some Council members, but not all of them, so she was looking for tension between Thras and me because I'm not hit by the rule but he is. She hasn't found anything yet."

"Classy."

"It's not like she wants to be doing it," Anjrew pointed out. "The company she works for made her come."

"That's too bad, she's good at her job."

"You want to talk to her? She should be right down the hall."

Jim blinked. "What? No."

Anjrew laughed. "That bad?"

"I have a habit of saying things I shouldn't on live television."

"Ah, but she doesn't have a camera, you see."

"Really?" Jim perked up. "Where'd they send Stevens?"

"He's off at Thras's, annoying the shit out of him."

"You hope."

"I do. It's bad of me, but I do."

"So much for no tension."

"Oh, shut up," Anjrew said affectionately. "He's an asshole, I'm allowed to hate assholes."

"You know what you should do?" Jim asked rhetorically.

"What?"

"Buddy up with Ambassador Prime from Vulcan. He's really cool, and I bet he'll sponsor a lot of bills that you otherwise might not get passed."

"Humm." Anjrew stared into middle distance for a while. "Would it be alright if I used your name?"

"Yeah, sure, I don't care. So long as I can use yours to get onto Andorian bases."

"Oh, that's no problem," Anjrew promised. "You wouldn't trash a base. If you need anything easy like that, call me. I'll take care of it."

"Excellent!" Jim beamed. "Same goes for you and the Cardassians or the Vulcans. They're easy enough once you get to know them."

The Councilman winced. "I'll take your word for it."

"I know what I'm talking about. You'll be fine."

Something rang from one of the deeper bits of the abyss that existed on Anjrew's desk. He sighed and started to toss things off haphazardly until he found the blue comm link button. "Yes?"

"Nowmi to see you, Thiir."

Jim sighed dramatically and braced for impact. Anjrew laughed softly. "Send her in."

A blur shot through the door at top speed and nearly tripped over a bench concealed by wood products. "It's _that_ impossible to pick up a floor?" Nowmi asked as she hopped slightly, holding one shin gingerly.

Anjrew tried not to snicker as Jim attempted to melt into the wall. "Apparently," he said chipperly. "Ms. Nowmi, I think you've met Captain Kirk before?"

Nowmi turned huge gray eyes to Jim's slumped form. "Captain! What are you doing here?"

"Talking to Councilman Anjrew, what else?"

She cocked her head to the side. Jim realized that at some point he'd opened his knees a bit more than strictly necessary, and rushed to correct his posture. He cleared his throat. "Yes?" He demanded. "What is it?"

His Captain's Voice didn't work on her. She just blinked at him. "… I was wondering if I could hitch a ride," she answered finally.

"What?"

"Can. I. Get. A ride. To Earth?" She asked again, slowly.

"Why? Don't companies have travel options any more?"

"My boss hates me and won't arrange anything. I don't like public transit."

Jim blinked at her. "You're a reporter. You're not supposed to care what kind of train you're taking."

"I'm on the _French political beat_. I'm expected to be at least a _little _snobby."

"What's wrong with our trains?" Anjrew asked with obvious confusion.

"Nothing, she's crazy," Jim said quickly. Nowmi huffed at him. "Listen. You can come along _IF_," he paused here for emphasis, "_IF_ you do not film _anything_ or interview _anyone_ without written permission from me first. Okay?"

"Fine. When do I get to go home?"

"Now, I think." Jim looked back to Anjrew, who had recovered from the comment about the trains and now just looked amused. "Sorry, I've gotta get going. I've used up about as much capitol as I have left, and the Admirals are getting pissy."

"It was nice to meet you," Anjrew bowed.

"And to you, Thiir," Jim bowed back.

Nowmi waited until they'd exited the office to begin demanding information from him. "What do you mean, capitol?"

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you."

"Congratulations."

She huffed again and went off to find Stevens so that they could be beamed up to the ship. Jim wondered if Bones had gotten any more migraine meds out of Tishri's drug company.

.bdobd.


	22. Martial Law

A/N: Oh, my, this turned out a bit fluffier than I'd expected. At least at the beginning.

In the novelization of the STXI movie, Kirk talks to Gaila and Uhura in fluent Orion Prime. On the official website for the movie, he's recorded as the treasurer of the Xenolinguistics Club. (Has anyone else read/listened to the novelization? I have it on my iPod as an audiobook; it's stupidly good.)

.bdobd.

The captain's return was prefaced by the arrival of two humans that were pleased to be aboard for the very reasons that the crew dreaded their coming.

Cameraman Stevens and Ms. Zarabeth Nowmi were beamed onto the ship beaming. Nowmi's smile 'fell' slightly as she noticed Spock scanning her and her partner carefully, looking for the captain.

"He's coming up in a second," Nowmi stated. "He wanted to make sure that the cameras and stuff got here safely."

Spock let one eyebrow float and turned to Engineer Scott, who was clearly attempting to repress a groan. The engineer nodded tiredly at Spock's silent query. "The cap'n's signature is on. He's still there."

Spock motioned for an ensign to take Nowmi and Mr. Stevens to guest quarters and waited for the captain to appear on the transporter pad.

The blonde rematerialized with his hand to his face. Spock was momentarily concerned that the human had somehow managed to become injured in the governmental quarters of Shras, but this worry was dismissed when it became evident that the captain was merely rubbing the bridge of his nose out of stress.

"Captain?"

Kirk made a rough noise in the back of his throat, the connotations of which Spock consciously ignored. "Did Bones get any more headache meds out of Tishri's company?"

"… I am unsure to what you are referring to, sir." Kirk stepped jerkily off of the platform and strode purposefully out of the room. Engineer Scott's brows flew dramatically, and Spock quickened his pace in an attempt to make it into the turbolift.

The turbolift was empty but for the two of them. "Sir, I must request –,"

"Sickbay."

"– that you inform me to what is so distressing you, I –,"

Jim stopped the turbolift, spun around, and dug his forehead into Spock's shoulder. "… You are emotionally disturbed?"

Jim's arms wrapped tightly around Spock's waist. "Nowmi's on the ship."

Spock raised a tentative hand to card through Jim's hair. He got a faint impression of exhaustion that was all but drowned out by pure apprehension and anxiety. "… Is she so intolerable?"

"I get into trouble when she's here, for things that I think I'm doing right."

"… The repercussions of such are not often severe."

Jim snorted caustically and tightened his hold. "I don't like it anyway."

"I would be concerned if you did." Spock felt a smile flicker across Jim's face. "I do not recommend this as a topic of internal debate. You will only succeed in distressing yourself. She is here, and you are doing her a favor for which she will feel compelled to repay you. Additional strategizing will not benefit anyone."

His human sighed. "I know. My brain is sadistic and likes to try and eat itself in its spare time."

Spock blinked as a visual representation of Jim's comment fluttered across his mind. "You are developing."

"Hmm?"

"Your telepathy is developing."

"Really?" Jim peered up at him. "How do you know? We've never melded."

"Your projections are becoming stronger."

"Huh." The blonde reclaimed his spot on Spock's torso. "I had no idea."

Spock put his lips to Jim's hair carefully. "Come. Let us find you medication for your headache."

Jim grinned against him once more, and restarted the lift.

.bdobd.

The _Enterprise _had been directed to return to Earth, and the commodore was not at all pleased with the pace of her journey. He commed Jim three times in three days, demanding that the _Enterprise_ reveal her current coordinates. As the ship was still relatively close to the Cardassian border, Jim had been able to refuse this request all three times, but the delays were not aiding the commodore's already erratic emotional cycle.

"Emotional cycle?" Jim asked with considerable amusement. "You make it sound like he has a menstrual cycle." He was lying on his stomach on what had been Spock's prayer mat, but was now all-but-officially Jim's Spot.

"I did not say anything of that nature," Spock replied. "I observed that he is variable in his emotions."

"So'm I, but you don't say I have an 'emotional cycle'." Jim hummed pleasantly. "I'm going to use that."

Spock raised an eyebrow and turned from his desk to peer down at the content human. "That may be unwise."

Jim yawned at him. "A-and?" he asked slowly. "There's not a ton more he can do to me. I've already got," he shuddered dramatically, "a _reporter_ on my ship."

Nowmi and Mr. Stevens had been a much less irritating presence than originally anticipated. With no recording equipment allowed on any part of the ship without express written permission, all attempts to garner interviews from the crew had ceased. Nowmi had instead taken to talking to the lower ranking crewmen when they were off shift, asking them about their experiences in Starfleet and on the _Enterprise._

Mr. Stevens had been accepted into the jealously guarded confidence of the Security and Engineering departments, and was frequently seen 'borrowing' food from Engineer Scott or teasing Lieutenant-Commander Giotto. But both of the reporters had taken a conscious effort to stay away from the captain and the bridge, for which everyone was thankful.

"Ms. Nowmi and Mr. Stevens have not had a dramatically negative effect upon the ship," Spock replied carefully.

"I know," Jim answered chipperly. "It's been really nice, actually. 'Parently Stevens and Giotto've got a bet going as to who can get that broken camera on Deck Q fixed first. Scotty's put a bottle of his moonshine into the pot; it'll be interesting to see how this plays out."

"Agreed." Spock, thinking the conversation over, went back to his reports. He heard Jim rustle to stand behind him.

"What'cha _do_-in'?"

"Reports. Yours are due in ten days."

"I'm up to date with them, actually." Jim sounded pleased with himself. "I found if you do two a week then you only have to do four extra at the end of the month. It's working pretty well; I think."

"I agree. You have not requested assistance in completion of your logs for the first month since the beginning of our mission."

"Really? That's kind of embarrassing, actually."

"I do not understand."

Jim looped his arms around Spock's shoulders and planted his chin on Spock's head with an air of determined finality. "Making you do all that extra work. That isn't right."

"I was not harmed by the requests."

"I feel bad, though."

Spock twisted so that Jim's head fell to the same level as his. Jim blinked at the hybrid with amusement. "Yes?"

Spock pressed closer to his human, initiating a slight huff of laughter from the blonde. "You should not blame yourself."

Jim nuzzled his cheek. "Oh? And why's that?"

Humans had a higher liquid water content than Vulcans did. Such was especially true along their respiratory tracts. There was no reason for the humidity of Jim's speech to come as any surprise. "… I am here to assist you. You should, accordingly, ask for help when you wish for it. I will come."

Jim tightened his grip, putting his lips in contact with Spock's jaw. "I know," he sighed. "And I'm grateful for it. You're a lot to me; you know?"

.bdobd.

Nowmi'd been great about leaving Jim alone, and Spock'd been talking about how decent she'd been to the crew, so Jim had felt obligated to actually _talk_ to the poor thing on one of his off shifts.

The computer said that she was in her favorite rec room, four-and-three-quarters, with Spock. Jim speed walked to the lift: Spock plus reporters did not, apparently, equal happy admirals.

Nowmi and Spock smiled at him as he entered the room, in their respective ways. Which really meant that Spock just narrowed his eyes a bit and let his jaw relax, but hey, Jim was still the only person that could get him to do that; he'd take what he could get.

"Captain!" Nowmi beamed. "We were just talking about you. I didn't know that you were myopic."

"Just a bit," Jim defended. "And only for reading up close. Bones's been bugging me to get glasses, but I'm holding off until I'm at least twenty-seven."

"You stated that you would take the prescription test after you turned twenty-six," Spock reminded him.

"Yeah, well," Kirk shrugged. "I changed my mind. I'm cool like that." He let his eyebrows rise. "Anything else you tell our reporter friend?"

Spock's shoulders stiffened at the reminder, and Nowmi frowned. "I'm not here on duty," she argued. "I just want to get home."

"Your job is to talk to people," Kirk said blandly. "No reason you can't do both at once." He mosied over and sat in-between the abashed Spock and the irritated reporter.

"I do not believe that your accusations have merit," Spock said quietly. Kirk stared at him. "Ms. Nowmi has not exhibited any behaviors associated with official reporting. I do not think she is lying."

Kirk's jaw tightened. He looked warily over to Nowmi, who frowned again. "What did I do to deserve this?" she asked angrily. "I never hurt you."

Kirk had a flashback to the furious Pike that pounced on him after the interview, and all of the apoplectic Barnetts, and the stressed bridge crew. "You never meant any harm, no," he admitted, and tried to trust Spock on this one.

Nowmi looked exasperated. "You had a choice. I didn't force you to do anything."

"No, you didn't," he agreed. "You make me do things that I regret, though."

Nowmi looked at him quietly. Jim turned back to Spock. "_Does she speak Orion Prime?_" he asked in Orion Prime.

Spock raised an eyebrow as Nowmi stared at Jim with blatant confusion. "_I do not believe so_," he said sarcastically.

"_Seriously, what were you two talking about?_"

"_I was playing chess against the computer when she arrived. She requested information on our playing habits, my opinion on my quarters, my emotional status, and the progress of the Science department's latest experiments. I may have accidentally revealed our relationship status. I apologize._"

"_I'm sorry for being so snippy at the beginning there_," Jim said, mollified. "_It really wasn't called for. What'd you say our relationship status was?_"

"_I may have implied that we were sharing my room_." The tips of Spock's ears turned faintly green. "_I did not mean that statement in the way she most likely took it._"

Jim grinned. "_Gotcha._"

"Is anyone going to tell me what's going on?" Nowmi asked.

"Nope," Jim beamed. "But you'll be fine. How've you been, by the way?"

Nowmi seemed surprised by Jim's total emotional 180, but didn't seem to want to argue about it. "… Decent. Your crew's really nice. They love you; you know that? I couldn't find a single person who disagreed with your general philosophy."

"Were you looking for such?" Spock asked dryly.

"Not really," she shrugged. "But I figured there'd at least be one or two people who didn't like the way you did first contacts, or something. But everyone seems really happy."

"What about the away missions?" Jim asked. "Is there any – are there any, sorry – problems with those?"

Nowmi thought for a moment. "There was one Sciences ensign who wanted to accompany Spock, I think. But that's about it."

"Do you remember the name of that individual?" Spock requested with considerable interest.

"… Twalmly?" Nowmi answered hesitantly. "Or something like that. It sounded like it had apostrophes in it, though."

"T'w'lmi," Spock nodded sagely. "She had requested placement, yes. I shall look into the matter."

"Is there anything else we should know about? People don't always want to talk to _The Captain_ about their problems."

Nomwi worried her bottom lip. "There was something about liquor and Engineering and a distillation center, but I got the impression that –,"

"I already know about that one, yeah." Jim grinned again. "It's not bad stuff, actually."

Nowmi snorted. "I figured. That's about it really –,"

The comm embedded within the table chirped loudly. Jim frowned at it and opened the channel. "Yes?" he asked.

"Commodore Barnett for you sir," Uhura reported stiffly. Spock went straight in his chair and Nowmi looked curiously from one tense face to the other.

"… Put him through." May as well do it with Spock here, and Nowmi would bug him for weeks if he made her leave now.

Barnett's Angry Voice came through the table. "_Kirk_. What were you _thinking?_"

"I don't know what you're referring to, sir." There were so _many _things Barnett hated him doing.

"The _confidants?_ _Confidants?_ Really? That'd totally illegal and you know it –,"

"Not under the circumstances, Commodore," Spock interrupted. "In regulation 42A, section 3, it is clearly stated that –,"

"Shut up or I'm court martialing you too, Commander," Barnett hissed. Jim stilled. 'You _too_'? How powerful _was_ Barnett inside the Admiralty. "Now you listen here, Captain," Barnett continued. "I do not take _kindly_ to learning that I was being _tailed_ while I was on your ship!"

"It's common law, sir!" Kirk protested. "If admirals are on board, a captain wants to know what they're all thinking, so he assigns personal assistants! It's been going on for _years_, sir!"

"I do _not_ appreciate it." Barnett was definitely going to martial him. "You've got a subpoena waiting for you in your personal account. You're testifying to those assignments."

"_What?_ That's not right!" Kirk fumed. "You _had_ to have known that confidants were being posted; that's the way the Fleet _works!_ How else am I supposed to figure out when my upgrades are coming down the pipe? That testimony won't prove anything, Commodore."

"You think? Then maybe I'll get Spock down here too; maybe _he'll _remember a bit more about it."

Jim winced. "That's unnecessary."

"Is it?"

Jim closed his eyes and prepared to do something stupid. "Yes, sir. I'm coming."

"Damn right you are," Barnett groused. "Oh, and good job on the logs. You've been keeping up."

The commodore cut the connection.

Jim kept himself very still so that he wouldn't explode all over Spock and Nowmi.

Spock looked ill, but he seemed to realize what arguing would get him, and didn't say anything. Nowmi was spluttering slightly.

"What – What –," She gathered herself abruptly, "What the _hell?_" she raged. "Even _I _knew about the confidants and I'm a _reporter!_ On _France!_ What the _hell?_"

Spock looked anxiously over to Jim, who was still trying to regain his composure. "The Commodore is not overly fond of the Captain," Spock said quickly.

"That _has _to be illegal! No admiral can target any one person!"

Something about that sentence made all the fight go out of Jim, leaving him feeling empty and _tired_. "He's the Commodore. I've gotta deal. I knew he'd be angry about us flying over to Cardassia, but I didn't realize he didn't want to call attention to it. If he does, he'd gonna highlight how little control he has over the _Enterprise_. But he can still jerk me around, can't he?"

"I would have testified," Spock said softly. "It would not have been a great hardship."

"T'Pau would've given you shit, you know that. I couldn't make you do that."

"I would have gone _willingly_, Jim. You do not need to –,"

"I do now. I'll be charged with contempt of court if I don't, and you know how long those kinds of hearings take. I'll go and suck up to him and I'll be back in two weeks."

"What about the _Enterprise_?" Nowmi asked, horrified. "The Orions are angry and the Klingons might be restless and the communications network is fragile; you can't just _leave!_ I might not _like_ you, but at least I get how important you are to all of this!"

Jim grinned wanly at her. "Thanks. That's kind of sweet, actually." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "But I don't have a choice. Barnett is the only person who can call the hearing off now, and he's not going to. I'll be _fine_. I've been through worse."

"You should not have to do such, though," Spock argued mournfully. "You do not deserve this."

Jim smiled at him and resisted the urge to touch him. Even he knew that that'd be a bad idea in front of Nowmi.

"… I want a show," she stated, totally out of the blue.

"No way," Kirk refused automatically. "Bad shit happens when you do that. No."

"Jim, it may not be unwise to acquiesce, in this instance," Spock pleaded. "There is a _slight _possibility that the Commodore will retract his order with public pressure."

"There's also a good chance that Barnett hasn't told the other admirals, and this'll get them angry with me too," Kirk argued. "No. No show."

"Jim." Spock looked fantastically depressed. Kirk felt himself weaken. "Please. It may help. The ship cannot lose you now."

Kirk sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm going to have to testify on the Cardassian stuff, anyway."

"That will take three days maximum; this may take weeks. The _Enterprise_ cannot go that long without you."

Jim put his head in his hands. "Fine," he murmured. "Fine. Nowmi, you win. Do the damn show. I'll try and make it through the backlash."

"I will be with you for as long as you request my presence," Spock reminded him gently.

Jim smiled into his palms. "I know."

"What do I have access to?" Nowmi asked.

Jim sighed and straightened. "Lemme think on that overnight. I'll tell you tomorrow morning, and you'll have a day and a half to plan it out. Deal?"

"Deal. _Thank_ you, Captain Kirk."

"You're welcome. Now: I'm off to go plan for the war."

Kirk walked out of the room with as much confidence as he could muster.

.bdobd.

He was up until two in the morning, trying to decide how much clearance to give the show. He had wound up diagonally across the bed with a pillow jammed over his head, trying to shut up the prophecies of doom that came screaming out of the more sensible part of his brain.

Jim told the sensible part of his brain to shut up and get some rest. At least _someone_ would.

The problem was, he had decided around one thirty, that the Admiralty was too caught up in feuds and paper and logs and _other_ to really devote themselves to the actual _Fleet._ And public anger was good for burning paper, at the very least. And lighting a fire under the Admiralty's asses. Maybe if everyone asked, all at once, very loudly, where say, _Nimeret _actually _was_ they'd _find_ the bastard.

Nimeret was supposed to be patrolling the Klingon border.

Nimeret was not patrolling the Klingon border.

How did he know this? Why would the _Enterprise_, the flagship of the fleet, be sent out to pace a border already been glared at by the _Odyssey-A_? Clearly, Nimeret was not doing his job. Where he actually _was_ was unclear: Nimeav had called an hour ago in a panic, trying to figure out why she'd had to call Tranya over from Orion for backup in a Klingon skirmish.

Jim couldn't legally tell Nowmi about this: but if he gave her full clearance, she'd find out.

But she'd _also_ find, say, Jim's conversation with Topos, the one where he tried to get the man to believe his father was dead _and failed._ And Tarsus. She would know all about Tarsus.

… Spock'd taken that really well, though. It was possible if everyone kept a reasonably cool head than it wouldn't be so bad. Worse thing that could happen would be him having to testify on it again, and more funding going to charities.

… That'd be really nice, actually. Maybe this could be a good idea.

_But _the unedited story of the Nahka Comentha attack on Andoria that almost killed Spock, Jim, Tishri, Sarek, and the head of the Thakahla party in one fell swoop would be put out in the open. The coverage of _that_ story had been so twisted and redacted and creatively told that Jim'd given up trying to follow the official story and had just shut up about it.

Which was probably the point, come to think about it.

Jim groaned, rolled over, and smashed the pillow over his mouth and nose. He had a bit of fun seeing if he could breath through synthCotton, which he couldn't.

What would be the worst-case scenario? he wondered.

Easy. Revolt. The Federation was _not_ strong enough to survive that. There'd be killing and genocides.

But that wasn't very likely, especially if he and Spock managed to recognize the signs of something like that and nip them at the bud. So if he gave Nowmi full clearance, braced for impact, and kept a watchful eye on the public's anger, nothing _really_ terrible would happen.

Jim sighed into the cushion. It looked like he was giving Nomwi full clearance.

Gods, the next two weeks were gonna _suck._

But, maybe, _something_ good could come out of this.

.bdobd.


	23. Breaking News

A/N: This was actually done yesterday, but my internet decided to take a nap and wouldn't let me post. Sorry about the lag!

Fifteen point twenty-four centimeters is equivalent to exactly six inches.

Memory Alpha is both a fantastic website and a reference to a giant library planet. In Memory Alpha, all data from across the Federation is stored for public perusal; excepting, of course, classified documents.

In the audiobook novelization of the new movie (which is fantastically written AND READ BY ZACHARY QUINTO) Porthos is rematerialized onto the _Enterprise_ in the very last scene. It's a great scene; you should *hinthint* go read/listen to it.

.bdobd.

Zarabeth's eyes widened. "You're giving me _unlimited access?_" she breathed.

The captain shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah. I figured, there's no way this won't turn out badly: might as well go all in, you know? The library banks are in-between Botanical and Maintenance hold 4. Do you know where those are?"

She nodded dumbly. "Captain … Well, first of all, thank you. This'll be fucking amazing, if you'll pardon my French." The captain grinned at her. "But if you don't mind me asking, this is a bit of a reversal from what you've been saying –,"

"You use me, I use you," the captain said bluntly. "You take my information, and I steal your soapbox. It's fair now."

"… Well, if you really _need_ to look at it _that_ way…," Zarabeth squirmed.

"I do," the captain said simply. "Now get. I've got a ship to run, and you've got a job to do."

.bdobd.

Jim took extensive measures to avoid the library banks. Spock had accompanied him to the monthly inspections of the Maintenance docks, and they had been required to use several Jefferies tunnels to circumvent the busily working reporters.

Information concerning the new show had moved comparatively slowly throughout the ship: it had taken an entire three hours for the entirety of the crew to know _everything_. Communications had passed the news on to Helm, who in turn had told Navigation, who informed Security and Sciences and Engineering. The Sciences department actually confronted Spock about the withholding of such information. Spock stated that if Lieutenant Martan was so distressed by the discovery, than she may take up the issue with the captain, who had executive control over public relations issues.

Lieutenant Martan had blushed and changed topics. Spock had been relieved, a fact for which he found it necessary to meditate upon. The captain had not consulted him before allowing Nowmi and Mr. Stevens complete access to the _Enterprise_'s memory banks. While such a warning was not at all required, Jim did not usually proceed with a decision of this kind and magnitude without at least contemplating a second opinion. It was disturbing.

Spock did not get a chance to discuss the issue with the captain until they were seated in his quarters ten minutes before the show in question was to air.

Jim had pulled his feet off of the floor and tucked them underneath himself in what appeared to Spock to be a rather precarious position. The pose did, however, make it necessary for Jim to shift a full fifteen point twenty-four centimeters closer to Spock, and was therefore no bad thing.

"Jim," Spock started hesitantly, "I have been wondering about your thought processes that led to your decision to grant full access to the _Enterprise_'s memory files."

Jim pretended to be enthralled with the toothpaste commercial that was playing on his holoscreen. "…"

"Jim, please, I am very confused." It was not pleasant to admit such, but it was illogical to withhold such information from Jim now.

His human flinched slightly. "… The Admiralty won't listen to us anymore," he finally answered. "They're too busy with paper. If she," he gestured at the screen, which was currently showing a pet food advertisement, "does a good job, then they might pay attention to us."

"Us, in reference to the captaincy?"

"Us, the field workers. The crews. The captains, yeah, I guess, but the lieutenants and ensigns and commanders, too. Everyone has a say, and everyone is _saying_, but no one's getting _heard_."

Spock paused before nodding slightly. "… Accepted."

The opening music for Nowmi's show began to play. Jim straightened slightly, but tensed his abdominal muscles as if bracing for a body blow.

Nowmi was clearly distressed, but was attempting to hide such. "We haven't got much time," she said bluntly. Spock felt his eyebrows rise of their own conviction. "The Federation and the Fleet still have a _ton_ of control over the comms systems, and they could shut us down at any minute. I'm just going to dump as much information as I can right now, and analyze it later."

Jim made a choked gasping noise. Spock sympathized. If Nowmi managed to read the bulk of any one message into public record, that message would automatically be declassified and sent to Memory Alpha for permanent public record. Instead of focusing on one topic, Nowmi was going to declassify all of the _Enterprise_'s records, and let the entirety of the media do all of the more time-consuming work.

"Yesterday morning I was allowed exclusive access to the _USS Enterprise_'s library tapes. What I found was absolutely stunning. I hadn't –," Nowmi looked somewhere past the camera, where Stevens must have been signaling something to her.

"Never mind, we're already getting stop calls. Right:," she straightened her back, "Ambassador Aneas Topos did not die in his sleep, as previously reported: he was killed by phaser fire on Orion Prime. The _Enterprise_ was sent to Orion Prime two weeks ago and arrested Grand Marshal Atraos on suspicion of conspiracy to commit assassination. While in orbit, they were attacked by a group of Orion militants with unclear connections to the Orion government. Seventeen crewpeople were killed.

"The body of Aneas Topos was found in the Grand Marshal's compound and beamed back to the _Enterprise_, where an autopsy was preformed. The _Enterprise_ is docking tomorrow night so that testimony by Chief Medical Officer McCoy can be heard on the condition of the body and the implications thereof.

"Doctor McCoy will _also_ be testifying on a former Cardassian captain retrieved from the Cardassian Empire six days ago. The Cardassian woman is named Tyr Dejan, and she defected to the Federation by default when she was beamed aboard the _Enterprise_, as per Cardassian law. Dejan had been tortured since her show trial over three months ago after she was returned to her former Empire by the Federation after the Cardassian/Klingo-Federation fight at Starbase XI over four months ago."

Nowmi checked her dataPADD and inhaled. "Starbase XI is currently being run by former Senior Councilwoman Tishri. Before her, the first chair of the base was Winona Kirk, Captain Kirk's mother, who's now an ambassador. Winona Kirk is reported to be in a romantic relationship with Admiral Pike, which, if Admiral Pike does not withdraw himself from all Starbase dealings immediately, constitutes a breach of conduct.

"Former Councilwoman Tishri, Commander Spock, Ambassador Sarek, Captain Kirk, and the leaders of Andoria's Thakahla party were almost killed on Andoria by the Nahka Comentha party,_ not_ by a lone-wolf killer as had been previously reported. Officers Kirk and Spock took the assailants out of commission by taking over the entire dock and stunning several innocent dockhands.

"The _Enterprise _was not _chosen_ to retrieve Cardassian Tyr Dejan, they committed insubordination and went to the Cardassian border to negotiate _against Admiralty directive_. Officers Kirk and Spock have been in contact with the Cardassian Empire against Federation law since at least the fight at Starbase XI, but probably have been in communication with the rival empire since their rescue by the Empire from potential member planet 41 Beta.

"The _Enterprise_'s original orders were to assist in the patrolling of the Klingo-Federation border, because the _Odyssey-A_, captained by Min Nimeret, was declared insubordinate after it was discovered that the _Odyssey-A _had bucked orders and was docked on Starbase XVII instead of on active duty. Captain Nimeret has gained recognition within Starfleet by being the only captain with a personal dilithium contract for his ship.

"Interestingly, this is not the first time an _Odyssey_ ship has been under suspicion for illegal fuel contracts: the original _Odyssey_ also had dilithium contracts with people other than Starfleet Supply Co., which is illegal."

The woman winced sharply and tugged a microphone from her neckline. Someone was clearly shouting into the earpiece from a different receiver. She let the device squawk angrily at the camera instead of sounding directly into her ear.

"Other ships with _intriguing_ reputations include _Excalibur _and _Potemkin_ ships, which are known within the Fleet to be overly militant and incompetent, respectively. Admirals Nestly and Calta served on the _Potemkin_ together, where a botched First Contact killed hundreds of innocent people and set the two men forever at each other's throats. This feud _continues today_ in the form of supply and upgrade denials for the other's favored ships.

"_Most_ admirals have a favorite ship, though which ship belongs to whom is difficult to tell from the logs of just one ship. The missing Captain Menthe, however, was known to be a favorite of Admiral Nestly.

"The 'favorites' structure and the Admiral/Captain imbalance issues have manifested themselves in a variety of damaging ways, the most obvious of which is the 'lost Admiral'. Unpaired admirals apparently latch on to a high-ranking officer – say, Commander Spock – and attempt to incite mutiny against an unfavored captain. Admirals Hivash, Archer, and Nestly are unpaired, as is Commodore Barnett, but it appears that only officers Barnett and Hivash have chosen favorites.

"These favorites are First and Science Officer Commander Spock and Chief Medical Officer McCoy, respectively, both of the _Enterprise_. Officers Spock and McCoy were repeatedly pressured to rise against Captain Kirk, but refused all offers."

Nowmi's attention was momentarily caught by something off camera. She mouthed 'What?', stiffened, blanched, and continued speaking.

"Captain Kirk has known Doctor McCoy since their flight to the Academy together. Captain Kirk first met Commodore Spock at a disciplinary hearing called by the Commander to accuse the then-Cadet Kirk of cheating on the infamous _Kobayashi Maru_ simulation. Kirk pleaded guilty but argued that the simulation was a no-win scenario, which does not occur in actual missions. Spock disagreed, and the conversation was becoming personal when the distress call Vulcan sent out during the _Narada_ drill attack was registered by the Academy."

The visual feed was cut suddenly, leaving the screen a dark gray and causing Jim's eyes to widen dramatically. There was a slight break in Nowmi's recitation, but she handled the event admirably and kept reading through the interruption.

"Captain Kirk gained his current position by his 'exemplary actions under extreme conditions', but the _Narada _attack was not the first time his leadership and tactical skills had been tested under fire. Captain Kirk was on Tarsus IV during the genocide, and was on the kill list. He led his class of thirty elementary aged peers to safety under the pseudonym 'JT'. He was captured and tortured as an eleven year old by Kodos, and was rescued a month after he was taken."

Spock glanced down at Jim. The blonde had groaned softly, but had set his jaw and appeared determined to remain unaffected by the broadcast. Jim felt Spock's attention shift and stared challengingly up at him, only breaking his gaze when Nowmi continued speaking.

"It appears that until just now, the only people who knew of Kirk's involvement in the Kodos Genocide were the Admiralty, Kirk's family, Doctor McCoy, and Commander Spock. Commander Spock also carries the distinct honor of being the only person who has put his own life at risk as many times as Kirk has during away missions: the two men are tied for first place within the _Enterprise _logs at eleven times _each_. The majority of those times, for each officer, were due to rescue attempts that had gone wrong. Usually, the attempts were to save either Captain Kirk or Commander Spock."

Jim snorted, grinned, and elbowed Spock in the ribs.

"Finally: Captain Kirk is being subpoenaed by Commodore Barnett for his refusal to let an innocent woman die at the hands of an oppressive government, and for protecting his First Officer and crew against Admiralty prejudice. If he is found guilty of all charges brought against him by the Commodore – insubordination, yes, but also defamation, mental distress, violation of the Prime Directive, and emotional compromise – he will be jailed for a maximum of forty-seven years, face a three hundred thousand credit fine, and will be demoted from captain to ensign."

Nowmi paused again to breathe, but the audio was cut entirely this time and the holoscreen turned bright error message blue. Fourteen point six three seconds passed.

A stock documentary on the Augment War began to play.

Spock looked to Jim for guidance. The blonde peered up at him dully, as if waiting for an explosion.

The Vulcan curled closer to the strange being and did not move for the next twenty minutes.

.bdobd.

Jim swung by the bridge early next Alpha shift to warn the crew that he wouldn't be available for the next two shifts. Uhura and Sulu took it easily, and everyone saluted to him as he left.

He still wasn't quite sure why they did that, but it was pretty awesome of them to be so respectful after everything that'd been revealed in the broadcast. He'd waved it down, face glowing, and strode purposefully to his quarters.

His voice, audio, and text message boxes were full. The computer had automatically sorted by rank and initials.

Jim put through a response channel to Commodore Barnett. The infuriated man answered within ten seconds.

"What the _HELL_ were you thinking?" he raged. "What could have _possibly _been going through your mind that made you think that _granting security_ to a _reporter _was a good fucking idea?"

Looked like they'd be starting of quickly. "They're my records, sir," Jim reminded him. "There was nothing she reported on that was exclusively Federation confidential."

"The _feuds?_ The _reputations_?"

"Well, she got it from our logs, which are recordings of my conversations with other people. If she reported on it, then at _least_ two other people knew the exact same stuff."

"That's not the _point_," Barnett seethed.

"Then what _is_, sir?" Kirk asked sharply. "If it's not that it's privet Starfleet information – which it isn't, I take a distinct role in _all _of the topics she covered –and it's not a big secret, why's it so bad that she says it?"

"Because I'm getting calls from parents and brothers and daughters about why their family is stationed on any one ship! I'm getting messages from planets all along the borders: 'Why do we have to have the _Excalibur_?' 'Why are we stuck with the _Endeavor_? We want _Enterprise!_' All that broadcast really did was make you guys look good!"

"Us? She reported on me, too! The 'innocent dockhands' on the Andorian base? Me on _Tarsus?_ She reported on Tarsus! And the insubordination, and the subpoena? Those aren't exactly fucking glamorous!"

"You should have told me!"

"_Why?_ She's on my ship, you knew that. She had cameras. Stevens was here. I mean, put two and two together and you get four no matter which side of the border you're on!"

"What are you trying to say, Kirk?" Barnett growled.

"I didn't break any laws, sir! I gave clearance for a guest on my ship to look through my ship's records, and that's legal and fair and that's nothing to yell at anyone for!"

Barnett glowered. "We'll talk about it in the courtroom."

Jim stiffened at the mention of the subpoena. "Yes, sir," he grumbled.

Barnett cut the connection. Jim leaned back in his chair, put his hands over his face, and yelled at his ceiling.

He then sat back up and opened his next message, because he had a job to do.

.bdobd.

"Kirk."

"Admiral Hivash, I haven't heard from you in a while. How've you been?"

"I was better before that stunt you pulled with your reporter."

"She's not my reporter. And I'm not too pleased with you and McCoy, either. You think I wouldn't notice my own CMO being turned against me?"

"I'd hoped."

"Apparently. Isn't that illegal, Admiral?"

"I'll have fun with you at your court martial, Kirk."

.bdobd.

"Topos, there wasn't any –!"

"You told her about my _father?_ My dad's _dead_ and I just get the official papers and I turn on the holo and I see some random woman talking about my _dead father?_ What the _fuck?_"

"Look, Perseus, I know you're upset, but –,"

"Fuck you, Kirk, I didn't give you permission to use my first name."

"_Fine!_ Topos it is; you're _still _not listening to me! I _tried_ to warn you but –!"

"_You didn't stop her!_ I _know _she asked boundaries; it's her fucking _job_ to ask boundaries; why the –!"

"You yelling at me isn't going to make this any better!"

"… Have fun at your court martial, Kirk."

.bdobd.

"Yes, Admiral Archer."

"Good. So, no more access to Confidential level seven, correct?"

"Yes, Admiral."

"Good. … You know, I'm surprised that you're being so agreeable. When that Nowmi thing broke, I thought you did it to get back at the Admiralty."

"No, sir! I couldn't figure out any other way to guarantee that the Admiralty would listen to how bad it is in the field right now. I – _No_, sir, _please_ let me talk – I realize that you were all captains _at one point_, but it's different now. The show was just a way to get everyone's attention."

"… I don't like the way you did it, Kirk, I really don't. But I understand where you're coming from."

"Thanks for being so reasonable about this, sir. It's great to talk to someone who wants something concrete done."

"What, you mean the –?" 

"The level seven thing – sorry to interrupt, sir."

"No, no, go right ahead."

"… Thank you, sir. I'm glad that you had a recommendation to _fix_ something, that's all. Everyone else's been just calling to scream at me."

"Who's 'everyone'? I understand if you can't answer."

"… A good number of the admirals and a couple captains, let's just put it that way."

"Ah. Let's see… Barnett, Hivash, Pike, Calta, and Nestly."

"… Yup."

"Fun."

"Ooh, _baby_ was it."

"Pike the worst?"

"Uh huh."

"He was really upset that his relationship status was on interplanetary holovision. You'll be fine."

"If you say so, sir."

"Don't worry about the trial, either. All this publicity and you've basically guaranteed yourself a court martial pass. No one can accuse you of anything really terrible with all of this extra information out."

"… That's not what –,"

"I don't care what the other admirals said, I'm the head admiral and I know how things run around here. You'll be _fine_. You got that?"

"… Yes, sir. _Thank_ you sir."

"You aren't getting sentimental on me, are you?"

"Sir! That's an insult, sir!"

"See? You'll be fine. You know why?"

"Because you said so."

"Damn right I did. Good that you remember that Command Theory class in the Academy."

"It was pretty memorable, sir."

"What, that I fell asleep in the first class?"

"That, and the monkeys, sir."

"And…?"

"And the noodles, of course, sir."

"I put time and money into those noodles."

"They were extraordinarily well rendered, sir."

"Yes, yes they were. Now you keep your engineer away from my beagles, you hear?"

"Oh, Porthos was _fine_!"

"Good thing for _that man_ that he is. Archer out."

"Kirk out."

.bdobd.

"Attention all _Enterprise_ crew and passengers, this is Acting Captain Lieutenant Sulu speaking: Commodore Barnett has just ordered the testimony of Ms. Zarabeth Nowmi in front of the Admiralty for the crime of revealing confidential information. Our ETA – wait, is it – no, no, EAT was the border thing; our ETA to San Francisco is approximately eighteen hours. Shore leave will be granted to all personnel upon docking. … Captain Kirk and Mrs. Nowmi are expected in the Admiralty's headquarters by 0800 native time tomorrow."

There was a brief rush of static over the PA system. "Sorry," Sulu said quietly.

.bdobd.


	24. Crossing

A/N: So, I got these really great reviews from Pen-Name-Kitsune-Chan (who's one of those amazing people who reviews, like, every chapter) and Emanuel Black, and I looked at my outline for the next chapter, and I thought, well, I'll just _start_ it and have it done around, oh, Friday, and then I finished it.

So thank them, because they are great muses.

'ze' is not a typo. If you combine she and he you get ze, which is gender neutral. (And, yes, it's also one of the things Chekov says. I know.)

There's a bit in here about the Bajorans. It'd take up a stupidly huge amount of space for me to explain the whole Bajoran/Cardassian 'thing', and it's not at all essential to the chapter, so if you're _really _interested I'd recommend popping over to Memory Alpha dot Net and looking them up. Memory Alpha is amazing in most ways, and their Bajoran article is pretty good.

.bdobd.

Docking in San Francisco actually usually sucked. Mostly it was all of the paperwork: it was a populated area and if the helmsman on duty screwed up while landing ze could kill hundreds-if-not-thousands of innocent people.

Combine that with the fact that the Admiralty was _right there_, and Jim was _always_ getting called to explain _x_ action during _y _mission involving _z_ alien species that oops-so-sorry, hadn't been told the _Enterprise_ was coming and freaked the fuck out when a gigantic fucking ship _appeared_ in the _sky_.

But usually, the docking platform was relatively vacant when everyone disembarked. There were always a few pro-Fleet sign-wavers, and a few antis (Jim loved to wave to them; they got so confused), and a couple sets of parents/grandparents/siblings/ect, but there were only about seventy-five people all together.

Lower ranks disembarked first, because there wasn't much work for a Yeoman or a Maintenance worker to do on a rapidly emptying ship. Lieutenants and whatnot had some extra administrative work to do, but one of the widely recognized prices paid for getting promoted was that you were stuck on the ship for a good thirty minutes to three hours after the ship docked.

The _Enterprise_ landed per usual and the Yeoman and Maintenance got off.

Jim realized something was up when these people quite promptly _got back on again_.

The mainscreen was usually darkened so that helm could concentrate totally on what they were doing: mainscreen views were slightly distorted, and it was better for Sulu and his gang to use the measurements their stations picked up from the ship sensors.

So no one on the _Enterprise_ had any idea about the crowd of almost _four thousand people_ gathered at the dock until the first crew off the ship were nearly ran over by said mob.

It took another half hour of screaming at infuriatingly stupid base personnel (whose favorite phrase, collectively, seemed to be, "Well, I dunno. 'S not my problem,") for Jim to get what had happened: some idiot called a rally to either support or demonize the captain of the _Enterprise_. They weren't, as far as anyone could tell, _trying_ to hold the ship hostage. That was more of an unfortunate side effect.

The forty minutes it took of yelling at the rioter's leaders both convinced the four thousand person mob to back the fuck off and managed to completely _destroy_ Jim's throat.

This was a pretty damn big problem, because Tyr Dejan had to be transferred to Fleet Medical, and Jim had wanted to lead the party. With no voice, he couldn't argue properly with Chief Medical, who was almost as stubborn as McCoy but only half as intelligent.

The only person really 'allowed' to argue with Chief Medical was rank Commander (preferably Captain) or above, so him having no throat meant he'd have to send in the big guns to deal with what was bound to be sub-par accommodations for Tyr Dejan.

Jim, totally exasperated and exhausted, sent Spock out to deal with the Cardassian's transfer, put Uhura in charge of PR, negotiated a clear path from the ship to a shuttle station for the crew, and went to go take a nap. Maybe his throat would be healed by tomorrow morning.

.bdobd.

Following the captain's unfortunate vocal impalement, Spock was put in charge of the transfer of former Captain Tyr Dejan. The logic was both clear and sound: Spock was the First Officer and was second in command on the _Enterprise_.

Also, Vulcans were slightly stronger than Cardassians overall. If Tyr Dejan attempted escape, it would be useful if a Vulcan could be present to restrain her.

The majority of the crew had left the ship and was utilizing the path the captain had cleared down to the shuttle station. The Security force assigned for the transport had gone ahead to secure the cell itself; it was assumed that the former captain was intelligent enough to realize that an escape attempt conducted within the _Enterprise_ would end very quickly with either a nerve pinch or a short scan for the only Cardassian life form aboard. The only people now on the _Enterprise_ were the captain himself, asleep in his room after guzzling three aspirins, Engineer Scott, and Doctor McCoy and his head nurse, Christine Chapel.

Spock did not appreciate the company of Nurse Chapel. She, unfortunately, did not return the sentiment. Doctor McCoy knew of this, and made repetitive attempts to force her into Spock's company. When Spock had asked Jim if Doctor McCoy was a sadist, Jim had laughed so hard that he had fallen off of his bed, severely bruising his left cheekbone in the process.

Spock and Nurse Chapel waited uncomfortably outside Tyr Dejan's room as Doctor McCoy finished his final preparations for the transport. "… So… are you planning on doing anything over shore leave?" Nurse Chapel asked awkwardly.

Spock sympathized with her obvious unease: he did enjoy starting conversations with her, either. Admittedly, for different reasons that she did. "I am going to remain on the Academy grounds while the captain is being interviewed," Spock answered shortly.

"Oh, right," Nurse Chapel responded limply. "Of course."

She did not speak again, but chose to stare at her wrists, which were crossed in front of her stomach.

Spock supported her plans and left her to complete them to her fullest potential. He stared intently at the door to the common care room.

Doctor McCoy opened the door suddenly and flinched mightily. "Jesus, Spock!" he howled. "Don't _do_ that; you know I _hate_ when you do that; what the _fuck _were you thinkin' doin' that cat-stare at me? I _hate_ that!"

One day, Spock decided, he would locate the coordinates of all the 'g's that McCoy seemed to misplace with such frequency. "I know," Spock replied simply. McCoy seemed to wait for elaboration and snorted, irritated, when nothing of that nature revealed itself.

"She's ready," he said shortly, "but she ain't happy."

"It would be most illogical for her to be –,"

"Shut up and get in there; she won't leave without her 'guard'." 

Spock narrowed his eyes. "She fears attack? What did you tell her?"

"I didn't say shit; she's worried 'cause she's _smart_. You think that mob out there's gonna be happy that we treated a _Cardassian_ with _respect_? Don't make be laugh."

"I will endeavor not to do so," Spock retorted flatly. "If you would step aside."

McCoy snorted again and stomped off down the hall. "Chapel!" he barked. "The Commander's a big boy, he doesn't need you hoverin'!" Chapel flushed unevenly and scurried after the annoyed CMO.

Spock made his way into the darkened room. "The Doctor has been increasingly agitated since the news of the captain's trial was revealed," he explained to the pale figure sitting on the bed. "I would not take his statements as full and complete truths without first taking this fact into account."

Tyr Dejan nodded. She had gained weight since her arrival in Sickbay, but fear had taken all color from her. She had been turned gray and sickly again. "Will we be able to talk like this outside of the ship?"

It was unwise to lie, but he did not want to distress her. "… It would not be a good idea to do such in Standard. In Cardassian, however, we may be able to do so."

"That is good," she said with a nod, apparently gaining strength. "That is good."

Tyr Dejan stood suddenly, and Spock saw that her hands had been cuffed in front of her. The chains seemed strangely repulsive now, though their application had sounded reasonable in the regulation lists.

"Do you require handcuffs?" Spock asked.

Tyr Dejan blinked with surprise. "… I will not attempt escape," she said slowly, "if that is what you mean."

Spock broke the handcuffs with a quick flick of his wrist. "If you run," he warned, "I will use the Vulcan neck pinch on you."

"I know," she answered. She rubbed at her wrists as if in shock.

"Come, the Doctor is impatient and in an unpleasant mental state. He will not react well to tardiness on our parts, no matter how well deserved."

She nodded once more and followed him obediently out of Sickbay. The exit ramp was on the same floor as the medical facilities, so it took little time for them to reach the large door that signaled the true end of the ship.

"… We may converse in Cardassian, outside."

"Affirmative," Spock said. He was beginning to think that extensive conversation may not actually be a good idea: there were cameras swarmed hundreds strong around the ship, and one of Jim's charges was defamation of the Federation government, and the Cardassian Empire as a whole was not on good terms with the Federation.

If he changed his mind now, however, it was sure to negatively affect Tyr Dejan's emotional state.

The woman gathered herself and knit her hands behind her back. It was a gesture Spock recognized from his dealings with the Cardassian military. It was a rarely-used signal to allies: please give me strength. I do not feel safe, though I feel I may be, because I know that you, the people I trust, are here.

He had only seen it once previously, and that was during a loyalty pledge on Qurin III: the captain had signaled it to Spock as he went to his execution. The captain had been saved with exactly three seconds to spare.

"_Are you prepared?_" Spock asked Tyr Dejan. In Cardassian.

"_Yes,_" she answered shortly. Spock turned the handle of the portal before she could change her mind.

There were too many people on the docking platform's public areas. Rarely did the number of guests present at a landing exceed eighty; some estimates of the crowed exceeded four thousand.

There was a collective intake of breath as the crowd realized his identity and the species of the _Enterprise_'s guest.

"_Where are the Doctor and Nurse?_" Tyr Dejan asked quietly.

"_Already inside the dock, I presume. They need to converse with the Security personnel to ensure that you are safe and healthy at all times during the transport._"

"_Transport. What a pretty phrase._"

"_I suppose it is rather euphemistic._"

A flicker of a smile appeared briefly on her face before being firmly quashed. "_Shall we?_"

"_We have little choice in the matter as it is_."

Spock took the first step out of the ship.

The _Enterprise_ was programmed for Standard gravity, which was slightly stronger than Terran gravity. "_It is heavy_," he warned.

"_Cardassia is worse_." Tyr stepped into the light and waited patiently for her eyes to adjust to the sudden glare. "_Why was the ship dimmed? I had not noticed it until now._"

Spock began to walk down the lengthy exit ramp. "_It is to conserve power_," he explained. Tyr Dejan's pace was strong and even: the doctor had done well with her. "_Most areas of the ship are entirely dark. It is wise to conserve dilithium whenever possible._"

"_Indeed_," she murmured. "_They are staring at us. Why are they staring? Surely, they have seen you before._"

"_Not in person. And I doubt that any of them have ever seen a live Cardassian._"

"_How strange._" She looked around her with interest. She seemed to be gaining courage as they approached the mob, apparently realizing that they were not allowed to come within a hundred meters of her. "_They are restrained?_"

"_This area is restricted, yes. Careful of the final step; there is a gap._"

"_Noted. What is this material?_"

"_Asphalt._"

"_It has give, but yet does not._"

"_It is a petroleum product, like rubber. It has the unfortunate tendency to melt in temperatures over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and so it is only used in walk areas. You can see that the actual landing pad is made of a stone mixture._"

Tyr Dejan peered over her shoulder with interest. "Cement_, your doctor was telling me about it. He explained the process to me while he was applying the handcuffs._"

"_If he was my doctor, than he would listen to me. Which he does not, usually. He obeys the captain. He was not pleased when the need for restraints was explained to him._"

"_He did appear rather agitated, yes. You said that the captain was being tried. They are not like our trials, I am to assume._"

Spock remembered the recordings of Cardassian trials he had watched in the Academy: three elders making a decision and ordering what often amounted to the death penalty. "_No. They are not like that. There is… I do not think there is a word in your language. A group of commoners are called to make a decision based on evidence shown by the purportedly affected and the defending parties. The group comes to a decision of either guilty or not guilty, and there is a judge – like one of the elders, but appointed – who decides punishment._"

Tyr Dejan blinked at him for several moments, apparently deciding whether or not to believe what must sound to her to be an entirely quixotic system. "_… How… Nice._"

Spock shrugged slightly. They were halfway to the dock. It was surprising how respectful the crowd was being: he had expected racial slurs. "_It works the majority of the time._"

"_What is the captain being accused of? He seemed very kind to me. He is known as the best captain working in either the Federation or the Klingon armies._"

Spock made a 'mental note' to tell Jim of this; the human was sure to be pleased. "_Insubordination to the Admiralty, defamation of the Federation, mental distress he effected upon one particular Admiral, violation of the Prime Directive, which states a policy of non-interference, and emotional compromise, either because of his close relationship with me, his First Officer, or his rescue of you, someone to whom he had spoken previously._"

"_… That is a rather lengthy list._"

"_Indeed._"

"_Is that why all of these people are here?_" She gestured to the crowd, who'd stayed entirely silent throughout the entire exchange. "_I was told, in training for my ship, that your captain was much loved by the people of the Federation, and that was why he was so dangerous._"

Spock nodded. "_Yes._"

"_He is also known as a great fighter and commander, of course_," Tyr Dejan said quickly. "_But he is best known for the loyalty he inspires in others._"

"_He is an inspiring person,_" Spock agreed, searching through his wallet for his crew card: the key to the dock.

"_Is that why you joined the Federation?_"

Spock stopped and looked back at her. "_What? No. I was born into the Federation._"

"_That is not true: only humans are born into the Federation._" She sounded genuinely confused. "_Though they may become citizens through military service. That is why there are so many non-humans on the _Enterprise."

"_No, that is not at all correct_," Spock insisted with a shake of his head. "_Anyone born within Federation space is a Federation citizen. While there is no draft in the Federation, people serve in Starfleet because they wish to aid their government._"

"_That makes no _sense_. What about those you do not want?_"

"_What are you talking about?_" Spock wondered with complete befuddlement. How had she been so long in their company without learning of their system? "_No. If you are born with us, than you are of us. Surely, that is the way of Cardassia as well. I know it is the way of the Klingons._"

"_Not the Bajorans._"

"_Who are the Bajorans?_"

"_Is that really how you become Federation?_" Tyr Dejan asked again, obviously frustrated. "_That is all? You are _born_?_"

"_You may also defect, if you are from another place,_" Spock pointed out. "_It is actually quite simple. You state an intent to become a Federation citizen, you come to live in the Federation, and forms are signed, and a pledge is made to obey Federation laws._"

Tyr Dejans' eyes went wide. "_That is _all_?_" She spluttered. "_You are the Federation! You are supposed to be the most modern of all of the Empires, but here you are just _letting people in_? This is ridiculous! Why –?_"

Doctor McCoy poked his head out of the dock. "Are you two okay?" he shouted. "I don't want her heart rate up, Spock! You keep her calm!"

"_You see?_" Spock accused her. "_You have distressed the doctor even more. You do not want this, I know. Come, let us go inside._"

"_You have skipped the subject,_" Tyr Dejan muttered pettily.

"_And you still have not told me who the Bajorans are_," Spock responded. "_Come. Get inside so that Giotto may deal with you. I must return to the captian._ _Do not worry about Giotto_," he added, "_he is loyal to the captain and will not harm you._"

"_Is anyone disloyal to the captain?_"

"_No one who is intelligent_," Spock answered dryly.

"What the fuck were you talking about!" McCoy yelled at Spock. "You fuckin' cozyin' up to her; do you know what this'll do to Jim in that trial!"

"Nothing," Tyr Dejan said with a flick of her chin. "For people are loyal to him. He will live. You will be well. Worrying now is – there is a word, Spock."

"Superfluous," Spock supplied.

"Yes," she nodded. "Superfluous."

McCoy spluttered then, and he spluttered later on the way to the cell, and he spluttered when Giotto just rolled his eyes and smiled when he realized that Tyr Dejan had walked the entire length of the base without restraints.

.bdobd.


	25. Groundswell

A/N: This is the first chapter of an action arc; if I go astray during these (or you spot any errors, or the like) please let me know.

In the second scene, Jim has two 'comms': One is the holoscreen on his desk that can support multiple channels, and the other's the handheld flip-phone that he carts around on his belt or in his pocket and can only support one channel. His 'personal comm' is a reference to the flip kind, as the holoscreen comm is actually a part of the ship.

.bdobd.

Nowmi's main competitor was a man named Kin, who come on air at the same time that she did, but on a different channel. Kin covered mostly Tellar and Terra news, while Nowmi did Paris and, now, Starfleet. Nowmi'd been doing exceptionally well since her time on the _Enterprise_, even after her assistant had been the one to get that whole Commander-Spock-and-Lieutenant-Uhura-at-a-bar thing.

So Kin was understandably ecstatic when _he_ was the one who got the call that the Cardassian woman Commander Spock had walked across the base had just _defected_ to the Federation.

Nowmi was understandably furious.

.bdobd.

And Jim was understandably confused. He'd been going over notes for his trial, not been watching the news.

The Cardassian government was too shocked to be understandably anything. Their representative had apparently been ordered to comm Jim with explicit orders not to say _anything_ until further instruction.

This meant that a frowning Cardassian who looked extremely pissed but wouldn't tell Jim what the hell was now glaring at him from the holoscreen on the desk. Jim argued ineffectually with the obstinate alien before giving up and tuning in to Nowmi's show on a separate channel.

She had a 'breaking news' banner up. "– has just defected to the Federation," Nowmi spluttered. "The woman's name is Tyr Dejan – sorry if I just butchered the pronunciation – and she's apparently just filed the paperwork necessary to defect from the Cardassian Empire to the Federation! That's all we have for right now; we don't know if Captain Kirk or Commander Spock convinced her to do this, or if this was a totally spontaneous action. We're calling around right now –,"

Jim threw a slightly panicked look over to his personal comm, but relaxed when he remembered that he'd shut it off hours ago. T'Panya and that new Tellaritian guy were probably trying Spock. Spock was meditating across the hall, though, and he always turned off his appliances when he did that. The poor people were probably really frustrated. Even though they were still on the ship – guests had to wait until after prisoner transfers to disembark in case anything went wrong, and Tyr Dejan's papers still hadn't been fully cleared – they knew better than to interrupt either of them when Jim's trial was just the next morning.

"– but we're not getting any response," Nowmi continued from her recording spot in the rec room. "We'll update you as we get more news. We're – We're going to commercial? Okay, we're gonna be back in a sec. This is Zarabeth Nowmi for IPFPNN: Everything you need to know."

Fuck. They were taking that break to collect as much as they could from everyone they knew. Best not to turn his comm on. Jim swiveled back to the pissed Cardassian representative. "I swear I had no idea. I haven't talked to her all day."

The Cardassian's jaw worked, but he didn't say anything. Jim sighed. The representative wouldn't speak until the committee of elders had decided what to say, and, being a committee, nothing would be decided for at least another ten minutes of rousing debate.

"I didn't say _anything_ about defecting," Kirk stated loudly. There was sure to be a microphone somewhere on the representative's end, connecting him to the committee. "It was her idea. You saw the clip of Spock walking her to the dock: he didn't try to _persuade_ her to defect. He just mentioned that it was possible."

Kirk'd thought that a strange move on Spock's part, walking Tyr Dejan to the dock. It implied that she needed protection, for one thing. And it put Jim squarely on her side of whatever argument the Admirals wanted to throw at him. Spock would be able to be in the court room, but he couldn't say a thing unless he was called to testify.

The Cardassian didn't look impressed. He cocked his head suddenly: the elders must've agreed to something. "If our citizen is not returned," the representative said slowly, "then we shall have battle."

Jim blinked at him. "No you won't. You're still recovering from the Klingon thing, if it's even really over, and our ships are way stronger than yours. And you know all of that."

The representative waited slightly impatiently for the elders to speak again. "… We would be victorious."

"But you _wouldn't_ be," Jim insisted, honestly confused by the empty threats.

"… Anything is possible."

"But not much is probable!" Jim thought for a moment. "And she's _our_ citizen now."

He signed off before the elders could retort. He wasn't much worried about a Cardassian war; there simply weren't the resources for it on the Cardassian side. There would be some hard feelings, though, which could lead to some skirmishes with shuttles. Jim put a message through to Nimeav and the Vulcan Colony to watch out for Cardassian cruisers, then went to go interrogate Spock on what _exactly_ he'd told Tyr Dejan.

Spock was sitting peacefully on his new meditation mat. His old one was now officially Jim's: Spock accused him of making it smell 'entirely of human male', to which Jim had winked and leered gratuitously.

Spock had kicked him out of the room with obviously affectionate exasperation. Jim'd wandered across the hall to make notes for the trial, and now, coming full circle, was back to bother Spock.

The Vulcan looked up as Jim entered the room, blinking groggily. Spock usually needed two or three minutes to totally come out of his trances. "I'll wait," Jim said, pulling out 'his' mat and sitting in front of Spock.

He came out of his daze more quickly than usual. "… You are in need of assistance?" Spock stated quietly, snuffing his candles slowly.

"Sort of." Jim watched Spock's hands for a pleasant moment. "A representative for the Cardassian committee of elders just called. They're annoyed that Tyr Dejan defected, but they don't know what to do about it, so they made some empty threats and then hung up."

Spock carefully crossed his wrists in his lap. "Tyr Dejan defected to the Federation, I presume."

"Yep," Jim nodded. "Just a little while ago. The Cardassian guy called, and I turned on Nowmi and got a snippet of her covering it. 'Parently no one knows why she did it." He let the unasked question sit between them placidly.

"I do not possess any information that I believe is salient to the matter. The recording of our conversation in the dock is of public record, and I know that you watched it. Your Cardassian is of the same proficiency as mine, at least."

"So, nothing before the tapes that would've had _any_ effect on her decision?"

"I do not know of her thought processes," Spock said with a slight shrug. "I reassured her that we would be able to converse out of the ship, in Cardassian. I took off her handcuffs. I said that the doctor's concerns over the public's reaction to her presence were most likely aggravated by his agitated mental state since hearing of your trial."

"That's it? Are you sure?"

"That is all." Spock looked totally confident of his answer. Jim relaxed slowly; he wouldn't lie about something like this.

"That's good," he sighed. "I was worried that… Shit, I don't even know." Jim put his head in his hands. "That you'd worked her over, or something? But you wouldn't do that. I'm sorry." He started to stand.

Spock put a hand on his shoulder. "You are distressed. This is reasonable."

Jim snorted and sat back down. "'S not exactly logical."

"It is understandable. You are not to be blamed for this."

Jim groaned and slumped into Spock's shoulder. The hybrid was about a foot away from him, so it was a bit awkward, but it worked. Spock started to rub his back slowly. "I wish you were there," Jim murmured.

"As I do. It is illogical for the Commodore to have only called upon you to testify, as I was involved in the grand majority of the decisions you made that irritated the Admiralty."

Jim laughed weakly. "When you say it like that, it sounds like you're my minion or something. Partners in crime and all that."

"Are we not?"

Jim thought over the past few weeks, and their current position. "Well," he muttered, "if you need to put it that way…"

"I do."

Jim felt himself grin. "You sound like me and Nowmi, a bit. I ever tell you about that conversation?"

"I obtained the most basic information regarding it, yes. It is rather unfortunate that she is still aboard."

"You don't have to tell _me._"

"I meant," Spock sounded bemused, "that it would be useful for her to be able to report on the details of Tyr Dejan. If she was off-ship, that is almost certainly what she would be doing."

"… You know," Jim smiled, "you're just given me a _fantastic_ idea…"

.bdobd.

"Oh, we're _free!_" Zarabeth enthused, stretching her arms and beaming at the blue sky above her. She took a deep breath and then regretted it: the dock smelled awful.

Stevens saw her change colors and laughed softly. Zarabeth hit him on the arm and pretended to storm off. Stevens just snorted and followed her, his cameras clanging happily beside him.

Admiral Pike met them in the dock, like Captain Kirk had promised he would. Admiral Pike did not look happy with the arrangement. "Hello, Ms. Nowmi," he smiled through bared teeth.

Zarabeth beamed and threw her arms around him, determined to make him as uncomfortable as possible. Captain Kirk had hinted that Admiral Pike was his 'pair' in the Admiralty, which meant that Admiral Pike hadn't put up any fuss when his favored captain had been put up for trial.

"_Shall_ we?" She bubbled gaily. Admiral Pike's lips whitened and he glumly led them to a grubby conference room off of the hall.

"What do you want to know?" He sat heavily in his chair, like the very act of meeting with them was immensely draining. Stevens switched on his camera.

"Why did the Cardassian captain Tyr Dejan defect to the Federation?"

Admiral Pike glared wanly at her. "Not waiting on pleasantries, are we." Zarabeth raised her eyebrows expectantly. Her experience with Captain Kirk, and his reaction to her admittedly self-centered introduction, had led her to pre-tape all of her intros _before_ interviews. Everything went much faster that way. "Ji– Captain Kirk didn't convince her to do anything, neither did Commander Spock. She did it because of their example."

That sounded like PR bull. "And what convinced you of that, sir?"

"We asked her," he said flatly, "and she said that the Captain and the Commander were 'just that awesome'. Apparently she'd learned the phrase from one Ms. Zarabeth Nowmi."

Zarabeth pretended that her face wasn't on fire. "… That's… pretty solid evidence."

"We think so." Admiral Pike's disgust and irritation was tangible and off-putting. Captain Kirk'd probably talked to him right after she'd got on the ship, when he still hated her. They were at least allies, now.

"…"

"Is there anything _else_, Ms. Nowmi?"

"No, that's just about it, Admiral Pike." Zarabeth smiled gamely. "Thank you for cooperating with us sir, it made this a lot easier."

"No problem." The admiral was clearly relieved. "Have a good day, Ms. Nowmi. Your passes out of the base are at the front desk in hall 7."

Admiral Pike stood and bowed, and Nowmi figured it'd be best to copy him. So she did, and he left, and then she and Stevens went off to coo over the amazing footage they'd just taped.

.bdobd.

The Cardassian Empire called in the middle of the show to say that if Zarabeth didn't stop talking immediately, she'd be killed. Zarabeth kept on going, finished the show, and called Captain Kirk, who welcomed her back onto the ship for her own safety.

Because of this, the trial had to be postponed until the next day. That way the Admiralty could focus entirely on the Cardassian Crisis (a term already coined by the reporters) instead of interrogating an innocent captain about harmless dealings.

(In her opinion.)

.bdobd.

Ms. Nowmi's and Mr. Stevens' return to the _Enterprise_ was unexpected, but they were easily accommodated. Jim had settled them and had taken the news of the postponement well.

"Nothing I can _do_ about it," he had said with a shrug. "Working myself up won't do anything to help."

Spock had fully agreed, and they had spent the night playing dominoes in rec room 5. Jim had fallen asleep in a stack of synthetic ivory four hours into the second game, where in which Spock had moved him to the nearest couch and let him sleep for eight and a half hours.

Jim staggered blearily onto the nearly vacant bridge at 1043 hours the next morning. "You let me sleep!" he accused mightily. 

"Yes," Spock agreed. He did not turn from his console, which was displaying the latest information regarding the 'Cardassian Crisis'. "I did indeed."

"Thank you."

"You are of course welcome."

Jim shuffled nearer, his footsteps echoing oddly in the large room. It was empty but for the two of them. "What'cha doing?" he drawled sleepily, planting his chin painfully in Spock's shoulder.

"Reading the AP news feeds regarding the Cardassian reaction to Ms. Nowmi's coverage of the defection of Tyr Dejan."

He could feel Jim blinking against his earlobe. "… God, you make it sound so _dull_."

"I apologize."

Jim snorted and nuzzled into Spock's neck. "Funny."

Spock felt his eyebrow rise. "To whom are you referencing?"

"You. Don't play dumb, you're not good at it."

Spock did not know whether he had just been complemented or insulted. He decided to ignore the order.

"So what do the _illustrious_ reporters down at the AP have to say about our friend Nowmi?"

"She is either brave or stupid or some combination of the two, depending on the reporter."

"Sounds about right."

"Your position cannot be comfortable."

"I'm not moving."

"Your chin is digging quite deeply into my shoulder."

"Suck it up."

"… That did not make any sense."

"You know what I mean."

"… I assure you, I am quite genuinely confused."

"Bah." Jim removed his head from Spock's shoulder with a condescending huff that would have been insulting if Jim had actually meant it. "Wimp."

"I possess evidence to the contrary."

"Oh, you know you love me."

"… Is that not a given?"

Jim squeezed him around the waist. "I like you too. Now! What're the Cardassians up to?"

Spock ignored the warm flush that was climbing steadily from his lower torso up to his ears. He felt Jim beam as the green blood settled determinedly on his cheekbones. "… They are not at all pleased," he responded finally. "They continue to threaten Ms. Nowmi. It would seem wise to keep her aboard the ship, as a precaution against actions taken by any operatives on the base."

"… That sounds a bit paranoid. Secret Cardassian agents?"

"Our luck?"

"… Okay, you've got me there," Jim admitted with a nod. His head tapped Spock's torso and Jim let it lie there heavily. The attempt to prevent Jim from leaning on him appeared futile. "We'll keep her here."

"There is one issue."

He could feel Jim roll his eyes, though such a thought was admittedly rather illogical. "Of course there is. Lay it on me."

"We will have to stay aboard the ship with them. Civilians are not allowed to be alone on a starship."

"But the trial's today!"

"Exactly."

Jim groaned and ground his head into Spock's rib cage. "Fuuuuck. Damnit, that shit's contempt of court! The Admiralty'll be _pissed!_"

"… I do not believe they will be pleased with us even if we enter the court room this very second," Spock pointed out, "for we are already over two hours late."

"We are?" Jim blinked.

"It is 1047 hours, Jim," Spock noted gently. "The trial was at 0830 hours."

"Oh."

Spock pulled the visibly stunned human closer to him. "… That's not good."

"It is not the most preferable state of affairs, no."

"… Well," Jim said with finality, "it's not like they can _really _hurt us. What're they gonna do, sic Fleet security on us?"

.bdobd.

That was _exactly_ what Barnett was going to do. Jim couldn't believe it. "Wait," he waved his hands to get the _furious_ commodore to shut up, "one more time: you're doing _what?_"

"Get over here," Barnett growled, "or I'm _making_ you get over here. I'll carry you into this trial _by myself_ if I have to!"

"Sir, can't we just –?"

"NO. I'm sick and tired of your bullshit, Kirk; you've embarrassed me for the last goddamned time! No more! You get here _NOW!_"

Thank god he'd made Spock leave the room. Jim tried again to reason with the man. "Sir, that doesn't make a lot of sense –,"

Barnett cut the connection.

Spock poked his head through the rec room door. "The channel was just terminated from the Commodore's end."

Jim turned wanly to Spock. "He's sending in Fleet security."

Spock blinked sharply and stepped entirely into the room. "Are you certain? I do not believe that is legal."

"I don't think so either; dock security's supposed to have superiority. But he's gone totally crazy; this guy _really _hates me."

Spock walked closer and peered intently at the comm screen. Jim tugged at him until the Vulcan's hip was close enough for him to lean on. "… I do not understand."

"He's embarrassed," Jim muttered into Spock's pants.

"I understand that aspect of it," Spock clarified, "but not the actions he is taking. How is raiding the _Enterprise_ going to aid him in his quest?"

"He's embarrassed, I already told you. He's not thinking straight."

"Clearly." Jim snorted happily. "How does he expect to enter the base? As Admiral R'Vish has seniority over Security issues, she is in charge of most of the docks. He will have to request permission to enter the dock from her."

"And she loves me."

"… I would not go that far, but that is the general gist of my argument." Jim grinned again. "I cannot envision any scenario in which Admiral R'Vish would agree to admit Starfleet security onto one of her bases to undertake such a mission."

Jim sighed heavily. "I can't either."

"… Are you going to –?"

"I'm not moving my head."

"… It is a rather compromising position."

"I am an entire _four inches_ away from the zipper. _You're_ just _sensitive_."

Spock looked down at him. "You are an exceedingly strange creature."

"I know," Jim beamed. "Dominoes to pass the time?"

.bdobd.

The comm screen on the rec room table crackled about an hour later. Jim leaned forward and began fiddling with the frequency moderators. He put R'Vish on. "We were just talking about you!"

R'Vish, who was clearly in the midst of a panicked frenzy, paused awkwardly. "… Are you – You're not playing – Are you playing _dominoes_ in the middle of a _crisis?_"

Spock leapt in to save the day. "Admiral R'Vish, have you been contacted by Commodore –?"

"Yeah, and I refused," she interrupted. "What's your guys' plan?"

"Plan? What plan?" Jim asked sarcastically.

R'Vish's eyes widened and the spots on her forehead darkened with anger. "_You ignored a subpoena without a plan?_"

"It was Spock's idea!" Jim argued. Spock rapped him sharply upside the head, and Jim scowled at him. "Anyway, it's not like they can really –,"

"Fuck, Kirk, what if they just ignore me? I am _over here_; I can't do much for you!"

"What do you mean, 'over here'? Aren't you with Barnett?"

"No! He got me arrested for mutiny!"

"_What?_" Jim and Spock asked in unison.

"I'm calling you on one of the political prisoner comms; I've been locked up for at least twenty minutes now. Pike apparently left the Academy – he's been teaching a few Command Course classes there – to come and get me, but he went into the Admiralty and never came out. _What_ are you _going_ to _do?_"

Kirk was reminded of those first few moments after he'd taken the captaincy from Spock during the _Narada_ incident. His answer then was the same now. "Find Pike. Where'd you say he was?"

"Admiralty HQ. I tried his public number–,"

"I've got his private."

"Should I contact any Academy teachers?" Spock asked. "I taught the majority of them."

R'Vish smiled with obvious relief. "You taught _everyone_ Spock. Yes, comm them too. Maybe they know something."

"Right, I've gotta sign you off; I'm not sure that this line can support more than one channel," Kirk ordered, with all the strength of affirmative action behind him. R'Vish nodded and cut the connection without complaint.

Jim started to fight with Pike's comm connection as Spock left the room to go talk to his teaching buddies. Between the two of them, _something_ would happen.

.bdobd.

Jim had not been able to contact Admiral Pike through any means.

Spock was much more successful. He had managed to hold a conference call with the majority of the faculty of the Academy, who, at the news of Admiral Pike's disappearance and Admiral R'Vish's imprisonment, had grown visibly distressed. Their collective opinion of Captain Kirk's impending trial had already been colored against the commodore by Nowmi's reporting; Spock knew that they would do everything in their power to save the Admiralty from, in their view, the Commodore himself.

When Spock had informed Kirk of this, the human was generally relieved, but was disturbed by Spock's observations of the faculty's behavior.

"I'm worried about what they'll tell the cadets, honestly," Jim murmured. They were standing on the bridge, the mainscreen muted but set to IPFPNN's channel. "They're really supportive of us, and really politically active. I don't want any riots. I don't think the Federation can take it right now."

Spock was surprised. "That is a much more conservative view than I expected you to hold." Jim looked up from his shoes; clearly he had not respected such a response. "I had anticipated that you would support a protest."

The blonde leaned back on his heels. "I would, a year ago, I think," he mused. "But now I'm not so sure. I just can't see that sort of thing _working_."

Spock caught a flash of news coverage from the corner of his eye. He turned to stare at the screen with growing shock. "… I believe that we will soon witness a practical demonstration."

"Wha –? Oh, _no_," Jim moaned. There was a crowd of uniforms gathering outside of the Admiralty's headquarters. "They're not going to – Oh, fuck they _are, _no, no no no no –,"

"What are you concerned with?" Spock asked worriedly. All he could extrapolate was that the cadets were gathered in front of the Admiralty, led most probably by the faculty of the Academy.

"They're going to storm it," Jim moaned. "They're gonna drag Barnett out by force."

"How did you come to _that_ conclusion?" Spock asked, totally befuddled.

Jim pointed to the doors of the headquarters, which were nearly obscured by a sea of red-suited cadets. "They've already _started_. Can you see, the top of the door?" 

Spock stiffened. They tops of the doors were closed, but there was clearly an entry point available. The cadets must have broken the bottom halves of the doors off somehow. "Those were reinforced with steel."

"There are explosives in the Tactical Practices area," Jim said palely.

"They would have required a – oh. I understand."

The Tactical Practices Area, or TPA, was kept locked at all times because it housed a number of high-powered explosives, the likes of which could do things like destroy reinforced doors. The TPA was only accessible by the head of the Tactical department, who had the only key to the room. Clearly, the head of Tactical was in full agreement with the cadets, and had for some reason let them use explosives.

"… Should we perhaps turn on the sound?" Spock ventured. Jim looked sick; most of the blood had drained from his face.

"Probably," he rasped.

"… You seem to be taking this very poorly. I do not see what the issue is," Spock admitted. "At worst, the cadets involved will be punished and the commodore will be reinstated as head of the Admiralty. Nothing would drastically change."

"We had a trial today, and now there's a _mob_ outside the Admiralty that's armed with _explosives_ that wants the commodore!" Jim sounded slightly hysterical. "Barnett's gonna think that we _asked_ them to do this and he's going to bring us up on _treason!_"

"… That would be an issue, yes," Spock agreed.

Jim stared at him with wide, horrified eyes. "An_ issue?_" he squeaked. "Afucking _issue?_ A catastrophe! We'll never fly again!"

"Surely, people have a right to change their government."

"This is not a country! This is the military! Soldiers have no rights!"

"… It appears," Spock said slowly, "that such may be changing in the immediate future."

Jim whimpered. A group was leading Commodore Barnett out of the Admiralty. Spock went to turn on audio.

Immediately, a wave of sound swept over the bridge. Spock winced and turned the volume down, which only partially solved the problem. The majority of the cadets were talking and chattering and moving incessantly, so that there was a huge amount of white noise that almost overwhelmed any directives.

There was one voice that managed to break through. The commodore was not being touched in any way, but he was kept controlled by a variety of 'guards' that surrounded him almost entirely. Spock got the impression that if it were not for the fact that a person standing directly in front of the commodore would be forced to walk backwards, the battalion would have totally encircled the man.

One of the guards called for relative order. Some of the talking died down, but there was now shifting as the impatient cadets worked to gain view of the person actually speaking.

The guard was an Ocampan woman with a strong, forceful voice. "We have found the commodore," she stated loudly and redundantly. "We have not found Admiral Pike or Admiral R'Vish's prison. We need help."

The cadets groaned collectively at this, as though the movement had somehow just been kicked in the stomach. "We need _help_," the woman repeated. Spock found himself thinking that she would make a great captain one day. "We need help from Captain Kirk and Commander Spock, _who did not start this movement_. _They_ know what happened better than we do. We ask them now: help us reach our goals, and we shall assist you in any way we can."

Kirk's lips had thinned dramatically. The cadets were all nodding and crooning with agreement at the Ocampan's words. Spock turned to him questioningly.

"What do you think I should do?" Kirk asked.

"I believe this issue is one for the captain to resolve," Spock stated firmly, "and I will obey any orders you give at this time. I would remind you though, that if you wish to direct this in any way, now would be the time to do so. If you do not respond now, they will be offended and not listen to you again."

Kirk nodded tightly. He stared pensively at the comm connection that blinked placidly on his chair, nodded again, and opened a channel to the head of the IPFPNN's field reporters – whose coverage they were currently watching. The captain would be able to talk to the mob through them.


	26. Megaphone

A/N: Sorry this is so late, guys! I have a new beta (sexy_jess, FTW!) and there was a bit of miscommunication as to whether or not she'd actually sent me the edited piece. But look! Now, it is shiny and errorless!

.bdobd.

Jim's jaw was starting to ache from gritting his teeth. The reporter who was covering the mob at the Admiralty had been absolutely ecstatic that Jim had called, and asked for him to come down right away to talk to the crowd.

"They're not _totally_ happy I'm here," the man whispered into his microphone. Jim just knew that Spock's eyebrow had risen. "I really don't think they'll believe me if I report what you say. Can you just… I dunno, beam down?"

In the end, they'd had no choice but to beam. The cadets had worked themselves into a frenzy, and Jim believed the reporter when he said that they wouldn't listen. Kirk had called the bridge crew back to the ship; he couldn't be certain that the mob would leave the _Enterprise_ be and wanted to make sure that someone was on board standing guard.

Spock was setting the transporter to time delay activation. "… What am I going to say to them?" Kirk asked, facing the wall.

"What do you wish them to do?" Spock responded. Jim resisted the urge to glare at him for the singularly unhelpful response.

"I just –," Jim fluttered his hands helplessly, still not trusting himself to talk to his first officer face-to-face. "I just want them to be _sane!_ Just… _calm down!_ We'll look for Pike, and then…"

"It is what happens afterwards that they are most concerned with." Jim risked turning around. Spock was looking almost gently down at the transporter controls, his fingers moving gracefully over the almost maliciously complex series of dials and knobs.

Jim was blindsided by a strong rush of affection. He blinked sharply.

"Is there something distressing you, sir, aside from the obvious?" Spock asked, peering carefully and the stunned human.

Jim paused before grinning largely, "Nope." He almost bounced over to Spock, rejoicing in his sudden, weird glee. "I really like you, you know?" He hummed into Spock's arm as he wrapped himself around the Vulcan's torso.

Jim could see Spock's ears turn an incredibly interesting shade of green. "I – I believe I was cognizant of this fact before, yes." Spock had just _stuttered_. Jim basked for a moment in the fact that Spock would only ever do that around him, that Spock would only do this for him and that Jim was at least in some way totally unique from the rest of the universe.

He squeezed harder. "Good," Jim nodded, and stepped back, falling into Mission Impossible Mode. "How's that beam coming along?"

Spock seemed momentarily stunned by Jim's sudden, total change in mood, but recovered admirably, as he was apt to do. "It is ready now, sir," he nodded deeply.

"Excellent. Let's go."

Spock murmured an affirmative and started the timer. The two of them quickly took their places on the transporter pad. "Jim," Spock asked as the machine began to hum, "why did you do…" Spock made a slight wispy motion with his hands, indicating the sudden urge Jim had had to glomp him, "such now?"

Jim beamed at him, breaking his concentration for a moment. "Just wanted to make sure that you knew. Seemed a stupid thing to leave out of a relationship, that I'm 'rather partial to you.'"

Spock flushed and broke eye contact, staring happily down at his toes. Jim grinned again and relaxed slightly, secure in the knowledge that Spock knew _exactly_ what he was talking about. As usual.

.bdobd.

The mob was huge. Kirk had known that before, of course, but seeing it was another matter entirely. What was really striking was how _quiet_ it was: the crowd had shushed as he'd taken to the staircase in front of the Admiralty, but there were still enough people-noises to remind him of the truth of the size of the crowd in front of him.

The Ocampan woman who'd called for his help on screen – girl, really, she couldn't've been more than eight years old; the average age for the species was thirteen – had found an old-fashioned megaphone somewhere.

Kirk flipped it on with a screech. He sneered down at the machine, making the crowd laugh softly. He could feel his confidence swell, his captaincy completely taking over any doubts he had left. He knew what he wanted to say. He knew how to make them listen. He knew they _would_ listen. He was in charge.

"Cadets!" he boomed. All noise stopped and there was an expectant hush. Kirk realized he was grinning and didn't know when he'd started.

He had the best job _ever._

"Cadets," he repeated. "You've got Barnett, I know." There was a satisfied howl from the crowd. Kirk waved them quiet after a moment. "Yes, yes, you managed to catch an old man in his office without warning. Huzzah." Some embarrassed laughter. "DO NOT HARM BARNETT IN ANY WAY. We are not _criminals_; we are _protesters_. We do not harm others!" There was a wave of agreeing nods; no one seemed to have really wanted to _wound_ the man, just usurp him.

"Now, the real test: can we find Admiral Pike?"

"Fuck yes!" someone screamed.

"_That's the spirit!_ I need you all to start a Standard Three search. My first officer, Commander Spock," there was a cheer and Kirk nodded, "yes, the amazing one, will be leading the effort. _Listen to him._" Kirk pointed to where Spock was standing patiently. "_The Commander knows what to do._ I'm going to be talking with your instructors separately.

"_Find Pike_. And tell Spock when you do, and have him report to me. Alright?"

The mob roared, happy to have direction, happy to be told what to think. Kirk flipped off the megaphone with a smile. Spock's curriculum was standard across the Academy; that was one of the reasons Barnett was so scared of him. Kirk knew Spock's methods, and Spock had a comm on him: Kirk now knew where about eighty percent of the cadets would be for the next two hours, minimum. The other twenty would cop out, defect, or screw up in some way, but the competent people always far outnumbered the stupid ones.

The mob was turning towards Spock, who looked almost pleased. Jim grinned at the sight and jogged down the steps to where the Academy faculty was standing off to the side.

Nowmi intercepted him at the base of the stairs. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Jim asked, stunned.

"What, miss a rebellion?" Nowmi beamed almost hungrily. Jim leaned around her shoulder and spotted Stevens and –

"_T'Panya?_" Jim gaped. "What the –?"

The woman actually _shrugged._ "This should be interesting."

"If you say so," Jim sighed, having learned by now that no matter what he did the media team _always_ got what they wanted. "Don't get hurt."

"We don't plan on it," Nowmi nodded. "You're off to the staff?"

"Yeah, Spock's got a good hold on the cadets. Where are you planning on shooting?"

"You."

"_Fuck._" Jim looked over to the teachers, who looked incredibly amused. One of the Tactical instructors fluttered her fingers coquettishly at him. "Okay, just… Do what I say. If you're with me, you're listening to me."

"Fine."

Kirk took off across the green before Nowmi could tack on any modifiers. "Sorry," he panted, "media. Hounds, sharks, whatever you wanna call them."

"'S okay," the Tactical woman who'd waved at him said. "It's no problem."

"What do you want us to do?" a Helm teacher asked.

"We need to search the Academy itself," Kirk answered, falling back into captaincy. "There is a possibility that Pike actually made it back to the building but was waylaid there. It seems unlikely that Barnett would have been able to jail him with such short notice. It think it's way more likely that Barnett ordered Pike arrested by Academy security while Pike was walking _back_ to the campus."

The staff all nodded their agreement. "Where are we looking first?"

"Whatever area you know best. Command for Command Practices and Applications, Helm for Nav and Simulations – I don't want wasted time."

"Yes, Captain," the group nodded.

"Dismissed."

The teachers started back off to the Academy. Kirk spun about to go direct someone else and nearly took all of the skin off of his face. Stevens was directly behind him with the camera, the corner of which had almost destroyed Jim's cheek forever.

"Sorry," Stevens mouthed, hoisting the camera a bit higher.

Jim rolled his eyes and shrugged. "You get all of that?"

Stevens nodded and Nowmi beamed. "Aw, fuck." Jim knew that face. "Live?"

Nowmi's grin was bigger than her face. Jim groaned and was about to complain when his communicator's squawking cut him off.

"Kirk here."

"Kirk! It's Nimeav." Kirk's eyes flew open; he hadn't talked to the other captain in weeks. "Calta just commed and told me to get my ass out of the Lorentian System and get over to you. What's going on? Is this the revolution?"

"'_The_ revolution'?" Jim blinked down at his comm. "Um, no. I didn't know that there was even – Never mind. No, this is not an official revolt. I just need to make sure that Pike's okay. And that Tyr Dejan's alright; I haven't heard anything from her since she defected and it's worrying me."

"Okay." Jim thought that Nimaev sounded almost _depressed_. And Barnett thought _he_ was the rebel? "I'll be there in a few hours, I think, my Nav system's been going weird since we were hit with that ion storm a week ago."

"Fine, see you then. Kirk out."

"_Good luck_. I _mean_ it. Nimeav out."

Jim stared blankly down at his comm as the connection was cut. "That was weird," he murmured softly. He hadn't known that the anti-admiral sentiment had run so strong and so deep through the Fleet. He'd known that Spock and Bones staying loyal, even while being courted by Barnett and Hivash, was unusual, but it looked like that story had freaked people out more than they'd let on.

He was just putting his communicator down to shrug at Nowmi when it started up again. Kirk flipped it open. "Kirk here."

"Spock here, Captain." There had to be someone listening to them if Spock thought it necessary to tell Kirk his _own rank_. "A group of twelve cadets has managed to break into Mr. Barnett's personal files and –,"

"Holy _shit_ that was fast," Jim spluttered. "Who –?"

"They are at the top of their computer manipulations classes." The computer manipulations classes that Spock created out of thin air the first year he'd been given a teaching position. Those kids must be fucking geniuses. "I have ordered them to send all salient findings to Prime, Sarek, and T'Pau to be distributed amongst the heads of member planets."

"That sounds good to me," Kirk nodded, and started off towards the steps of the Admiralty again. It didn't look like he'd be needed for anything other than coordinator, which suited him just fine. "Keep up the good work, Commander." 

"I will endeavor to do so, Captain," Spock answered dryly. "Spock out."

Kirk snorted. "Kirk out, you sarcastic bastard." Jim could hear some shocked, hastily aborted giggling from Spock's end just before the Vulcan cut the connection.

Kirk flopped onto the steps of the admiralty with a sigh. He stared blandly at the iridescent camera lens that hovered inches in front of his nose. "Can I _help_ you?" he drawled sardonically.

Nowmi rolled her eyes at him. "Interview: why aren't you with the cadets and the Commander? Aren't you supposed to be _doing_ something?"

"Nope." Kirk leaned back on his elbows, setting his comm down to balance precariously on his stomach. "This is a search-and-recovery effort. The cadets and faculty know the layout of the buildings better than I do, at this point. Everything was remodeled after the _Narada_ Incident."

"But aren't you supposed to be _leading_?" Nowmi emphasized.

"I _am_ leading." Kirk picked up and shook his comm gently. "Right in here. Everyone's gotta know what everyone else is doing to do what they do best. I'm the person who puts everyone's reports together into one big picture. It's like why free media was invented; an unbiased group putting together different little facts into one coherent story."

"I thought you had Communications for that."

"I do. But right now my Comms people are better off doing fieldwork than trying to puzzle out why, say, Spock found it necessary to warn me that Barnett's personal files were being sent to the Vulcan leaders. A regular Comms worker wouldn't necessarily know, say, that Barnett is in charge of sending out mission dossiers. And crew pensions.

"Clearly, the Commander is concerned by something he saw in those two areas specifically, because if he weren't he wouldn't bother sending Barnett's files specifically. He'd just hack into another admiral's files and send those, because of all the people to steal from Barnett's probably the hardest. He's paranoid."

Kirk set his comm back down on his stomach. "Now the Commander I know quite well, and if there's one thing he does _not_ care about it's pensions. It's just not at the forefront of his mind. He's from a rich family; it's just not a habit of his to worry about that sort of thing. So there's something wrong with one of the mission orders Barnett sent out.

"That, added to the whole Menthe-disappearing-without-a-trace thing, makes me think that Barnett ordered Menthe to do something that put him at unnecessary risk, and Spock thinks that the Vulcan High Council should look into it. But whatever it is, it's big, because Spock _also_ sent the files to a family friend – Spock Prime – who isn't on the High Council, just so that Prime could send the information out to other member planets."

Nowmi was blinking at him, impressed. Kirk smiled slowly; he loved blowing people's expectations. "And _that_," he concluded, "is why _I'm_ here lounging on the stairs. _Someone's_ gotta stay out of the actual _action_ to keep a clear head and put together everything."

T'Panya was hooked. "Did the Commander know that his intercourse with you would be dissected in such a fashion?" she asked verbosely.

Jim resisted the urge to make a comment on the 'intercourse' thing. "Yes," he nodded. "He didn't in the beginning of our mission, though, and it drove him crazy. But we can read and predict each other pretty well now. He knows what he told me, even if he didn't say anything."

She looked ready to argue with about that little gem when Kirk's comm chirped. He sprang up and was pacing before he'd even gotten the thing open. "Kirk."

"Captain, it's Lieutenant-Commander Kr's," the Command instructor said shortly. "We – myself and my TA – found a series of orders that link Barnett directly to the death of Douglas Menthe. Orders, sir?"

"Send them to the Vulcan High Council – No, wait, actually, belay last order. Send them to a Vulcan named Spock Prime, comm connection V-1534-6B. And Commander Spock. Ask Prime to forward the files to whomever he sent the rest of the information to; he'll know what I'm talking about. Make sure you tell him I ordered the message."

"Do you want them, sir?" Kr's asked.

Kirk thought for a moment, still walking cagily around the base of the stairs. "… No, my comm can barely support one line as it is. Read off the most important things."

"Summary or quote form, sir?"

"Whichever's fastest; I want my channel clear if the commander wants to talk after he gets the files."

"Summary form then, sir. When Barnett first heard about Douglas Menthe's disappearance, he sent former Captain Pachek of the ship _Iliad_ after Menthe into Cardassian space. The bodies of Pachek and Menthe were transported back into Federation space via auto-piloted Cardassian shuttle two weeks later. It also appears that Barnett knew about Douglas Menthe's disappearance for weeks prior to the Admiralty's full briefing on the matter, but he never disclosed that information."

"… Right. Thank you, Lieutenant-Commander. Continue the search. Any luck with Pike so far?"

"No, sir. None of the teachers have found any signs of him. It looks like Barnett managed to get an arrest warrant before the Admiral left the Admiralty's headquarters."

"Very well. Kirk out."

"Kr's out."

Kirk had just flipped his comm shut when it shrieked again. "Kirk here."

"Commander Spock here. I received the message from the faculty."

"Good. You read it yet?"

"A summary was included with the package; I read that. I am not calling about the files."

"Oh?" Stevens-and-crew, who'd been standing a good ten feet away, drifted closer.

"I intercepted a message from the senior Terran Councilperson," Spock said. "He is most displeased with our actions and those of the cadets. He ordered an immediate stop to all actions, and threatened retribution if noncompliance resulted."

"He say what he'd do?"

"He was not specific. He did not sound as though he was bluffing."

"No, I doubt it. They must be freaking out over there." Kirk ran a hand through his hair and stared up at the sky. He looked back down and saw Nowmi creeping closer. He peered objectively at his comm. "Hey, Spock? You think you could get the councilman on the line?"

"… I could not do so and speak to you at the same time, Captain."

"I know, I know. What about someone _else's_ line?"

"… Sir, I am unsure as to the specifics of your proposal."

"What if," Kirk narrowed his eyes at Nowmi, who froze suspiciously, "you could get him on Nowmi's comm? Maybe, have him answer a few _questions?_"

"… I could do that, sir." Kirk could feel Spock's un-grin through the comm. "That would be a simple procedure. What is the registration number of Ms. Nowmi's communicator?"

Kirk raised an eyebrow at Nowmi, who was still blinking at him in shock. T'Panya snatched her boss's comm from her back pocket and rattled off the serial number on the back of the device. "5K367KNOT."

Nowmi glared at her insubordinate assistant. "… It is done." Kirk could swear that Spock was purring. "The councilman will be speaking with you shortly, Ms. Nowmi," Spock called.

The irritated woman grabbed her comm back from T'Panya. There were a few snatches of white noise before an _infuriated_ male voice screamed into existence. "_Teid!_" the reporter shrieked through the noise.

The councilman's voice sputtered out. "_Nowmi?_" he gasped. "What – What the _hell –?_"

"Isn't it hypocritical that you're _screaming_ at the commander for being insubordinate when you_ yourself _–!,"

Nowmi was going strong, but Spock had more to say. "Captain?"

Jim was distracted by the evisceration taking place in front of him. "Yeah?"

"_Captain._"

"Oh." Kirk blinked back down at his own comm. "Yes, Commander?"

"There is other news: we have found the admiral."

"Oh thank god," Kirk sighed. "Where was he? Is he alright?"

"He was locked in a high-security section of the admiralty's headquarters," Spock reported almost proudly. "He appears to be unharmed, but nothing can be stated definitively without a medical examination."

"Right. Spock, new orders: follow Pike."

"Sir?" Spock sounded confused and almost hurt. Kirk saw T'Panya begin to direct Stevens as Nowmi kept the councilman busy on the comm.

"I need to get back to the ship. I'm not sure if she's safe right now. Uhura and Scotty have got to be on board by now, but I haven't gotten any word from them on _anything_ and I'm getting worried. They can beam me aboard."

"… Accepted," the Commander replied after a beat. "I will follow Admiral Pike's directives. Spock out."

"Thanks Spock. Kirk out."

Kirk flipped his comm shut and began to run back to the base where the _Enterprise _was docked. T'Panya and Stevens made to go after him, but he waved them back. "No media on board without official permit from admiralty," he called to them as he ran backwards. "Stay and film the stuff at the campus."

T'Panya looked like she wanted to argue again, but Nowmi caught her arm and dragged her towards the Academy, still shouting non-stop at the unfortunate councilman. Kirk couldn't repress a grin as he bolted back to his ship. They had it under control.

.bdobd.

Jim circled the entrance to the dock angrily. "What do you _mean _it's _locked?_" he growled at Uhura.

She sighed at him, and it sounded as a rush of static over his comm. "Security lockdown, sir. Automatic when there's a civil disturbance on the Academy campus. There's no way in."

Jim groaned. "Fine. _Fine_, I'll use the drain."

"I honestly don't see any other way of getting out of the transporter block field," Uhura said apologetically.

"I know," Jim groused, getting a foothold on the drainpipe. "It's just a pain."

"Sorry," Uhura repeated, "Uhura out."

"Kirk out."

It was not, Jim decided as he shimmied up the pipe, the drain that was the issue. There were plenty of footholds at the bolts where the cylinder was connected to the wall. What was more irritating was that there was a security cam on the roof right next to the edge of the pipe, so he had to freeze every so often as the camera swept past him before he could continue on his way up.

When he did finally reach the roof he was forced to scuttle around it at top speed, trying to avoid being caught on any of the security cams. He had no idea what the mob had been formally classified as, and where he fit into the picture: best case scenario, the group was written off as a 'civil disturbance' and everyone went home with a firm tap on the wrist.

Worst case, they were in the middle of a 'revolution', and as he was the leader, and he would go to jail.

Good to hedge his bets, either way. Cameras would get him in trouble. Kirk bounded, irritated and graceless, around the roof as he commed Uhura back. "Uhura! Kirk here."

"… Sir, Scotty can't get a lock on your readings."

"There're cameras; I can't stay still."

"Nothing's been made official and your dancing's making you look guilty. Stay still and let us beam you up."

Kirk stood, pouting, feeling exposed and silly on the roof as Scotty worked to get a lock on his signature.

All of a sudden, he was dematerializing in the _Enterprise_. Jim blinked over to the Scotsman, who looked just as surprised as he felt. "That was quick."

"Aye. Looks like th' Commander put in a few a' his famous patches."

"Cool." Jim stepped off of the still-humming pad and moved to peer over the engineer's shoulder. "What did he – Oh. Oh! _Oooh_."

"Yeah," Scotty breathed. "_Ooh._"

"When did he – The bastard, when he set us for time-delay beaming, he must've –!"

"I canna think tha' he did ih' on purpose," Scotty babbled excitedly, his accent expanding to suit his mood. "Ah've only evah' seen _theories_ abou' this; I canna believe that he –,"

"That shouldn't be _possible_; how did he –? You know what. I'm comming him."

Scotty was still crooning at his dials when Spock's comm started to ring through Jim's phone. He felt guilty all of a sudden: here he was, calling Spock to bug him about a transporter modification (albeit one that _halved_ the beam time) when there was a _revolt_ going on.

Spock sounded panicky when he came on the line. "Captain, this is the Commander, the revolution is formal."

"What?" Kirk blinked and got his feet back under him. "Who's named it a formal 'revolt'? Isn't this still just a 'civil disturbance'?"

"Negative, sir. The Federation Council has named it a revolution."

"Fuck. Okay," Kirk breathed in deeply. "How're the cadets taking the news?"

"They are either incredulous or ecstatic, sir."

"Right." Kirk rubbed tensely at the bridge of his nose. "If that's the case, then I want you to beam aboard the ship. Now. We'll be named leaders and we'll be arrested. I need you back here."

"… I cannot comply, sir." Spock sounded small and sad. "The cadets will be without a leader."

"_What?_ Commander, as your captain I _order_ you back on this ship _now!_ You are in _danger_; if the Council's called it a 'revolt' then they're going to send in some sort of security, and you'll be the first one hurt."

"They have already sent in security, sir."

"_Where._"

"The admiralty's headquarters. The Council's security forces arrived three minutes prior to your call. I was busy ordering the evacuation and did not have time to contact you."

"I –." Jim's determination sputtered out. "I – Is anyone hurt?"

"Negative. This year's Tactical students are very adept at non-combative warfare."

"Are you, specifically, hurt?"

"Negative."

"Good. Stay that way."

Kirk signed off before he said anything stupid and began furiously punching in R'Vish's comm number. "Admiral!"

"Kirk?" the woman asked. "What happened; you sound worried."

Understatement of the year, that one. "You're head of security; can you make sure that Spock's not hurt? There's Council security at the admiralty HQ; no one's left in there but they'll have to run soon."

"… I'll _try_," she said slowly, "but I'm not sure I'll be able to do much. I was just broken out of a _cell_, remember? What I say may not have any weight any more. And Spock's been labeled part of the Revolution, so –,"

"_Damn _it!" Kirk ran a distracted hand through his hair and shifted his weight anxiously. "Alright. Okay, do your best, alright? Do you know who else is part of the Revolt?"

"Nope. The list hasn't been released outside of the Council."

Thankfully, Kirk knew someone on the Council. "Fine. I'll get it released. Stay safe; I don't know how much force those security forces were told to use. Kirk out."

"I'll do my best. R'Vish out."

"Scotty," Kirk shot over his shoulder, "tell Uhura that I may not make it to the bridge, and not to worry, nothing's wrong." He was already punching in Prime's number.

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Prime!" Kirk barked at his comm. "You're one of the Vulcan Councilman?"

"… Yes, Captain," Prime answered after a beat. "I am indeed."

"Did you get the list of people in the Revolution? It hasn't been released to the public."

Kirk could hear Prime's eyebrow leap. "That is extremely illegal. I have received the list, but had not realized that it had not been published. I will upload it to the internet. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes. _Thank_ you, Prime." Kirk sighed. "Is R'Vish on there?"

"… Affirmative."

"Damn. Anyone else I should know about?"

"Yourself," Prime answered bluntly, "as well as every admiral except Hivash and Barnett are, and Tranya, Nimeav, and me."

"… Fuck."

"That is not the precise term I would utilize, but…"

"Yeah." Kirk caught himself gritting his teeth and ordered his jaw to stop. "Thanks, Prime."

"Of course, Captain."

Kirk looked around the transporter room and felt acutely useless. "… Any advice on how to go about this?"

"… You could attempt to beam into the Council chambers themselves. Their security forces are obviously distracted."

"And do what there?"

"Attempt to gain favor for your men. You need help."

"Clearly," Kirk murmured. "Right. Thanks, Prime. Kirk out."

"Prime out."

Kirk walked over to the comm that was set into the wall. "Uhura, pick up the line."

"Captain?" Uhura asked, surprised.

"That's me. Listen, I need you to get major media and the President to follow me down to the Council chambers. Oh, get the governor of California, too."

"… Sir?"

"_Now_, Lieutenant."

"Yessir. Will there be cameras provided, sir?"

"No. Media brings the cameras, the President and Governor watch and listen."

"I'm on it." Kirk cut the connection. "Scotty," he ordered, turning around, "can you get me into the chambers?"

The engineer clearly thought he was crazy. "Aye cap'n," Scotty said slowly, "but are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What else is there to do?" Kirk asked with a shrug.

Scotty considered this carefully. "Alright, I can do it right quick."

Kirk nodded approvingly. "Good. As soon as Uhura gets everyone in place, I'm beaming. Spock needs help."

.bdobd.


	27. Under Fire

A/N: I apologize for the embarrassingly long wait; there have been a few beta communication issues. Any mistakes are my own.

.bdobd.

Spock was overseeing the last of the evacuation when a nervous Communications major had handed him a communicator. "It's Lieutenant _Uhura_," the cadet murmured worshipfully. "She wants to talk to you."

Spock took the communicator with a raised eyebrow. The awed cadet scurried away. "Commander Spock here."

Uhura did not bother with introductions. "Do you have access to a holoscreen?"

Spock motioned for T'Panya to come closer. The reporter had been pacing the sidelines, silently observing the evacuation as Nowmi shouted at the councilman that still tried to stop the Revolution. "I now do. To what event are you referring?"

T'Panya stopped a respectful distance away: just close enough to hear what Uhura was saying. "The captain just beamed into the Council chambers to try and build support for the Revolt. He's got President McLaren and the governor of the state there, too."

Spock looked to T'Panya, who nodded and began contacting someone on her personal comm. "What does he need?"

"A show of support. He can't go in there and talk about all the people who need help, and then have no one to exhibit. Can you move anyone downtown?"

Spock eyed the crowd speculatively. The Starfleet security forces would not expect such a migration. "I can. I will be at the chambers as soon as possible."

"Good. Uhura out."

"Spock out." Spock flipped his communicator shut and turned to T'Panya, who wordlessly handed him her comm. He took it quietly, suddenly aware of the expectant hush that had fallen over the cadets. Kirk would know what to say in this situation, Spock reflected. He would know how to trigger their feelings of self-righteousness and pride in a way that would not harm their cause.

Spock was not as good a public speaker as Kirk was. The captain's voice came suddenly from the communicator's speaker; the broadcast from the chambers must be live.

"– and we are not here to _harm_ anyone!" the captain orated to the councilpeople. "We are not here to _destroy!_ We are not here to be _angry!_ We're only trying to make things _fair_; fair for people in _all _places in _all _areas in _all_ occupations! It shouldn't _be_ that –,"

Spock turned up the volume on the communicator and offered it to the mob at shoulder height, palm up. He pointed towards the main street. _He is there_.

"– _some_ get favors and some get _punished_ for the _exact same actions!_ That's not right; we _know _that's not right, and we're trying to _change_ the system, so that it _does_ what it _says_ it wants to do."

"The captain is at the Council chambers," Spock told the cadets. "I will be going. You are not obligated to join me."

"_That's _why those against the Revolution are seen as cruel," Kirk continued earnestly. "It's not right, but that's the reason why. Because they are against Starfleet accomplishing what it was _created_ to accomplish: equality and safety and _unity_ through our differences."

Spock began walking. The cadets followed.

The captain's voice rang through the crowd, accompanied by the sound of footsteps on pavement and the occasional murmur of agreement.

.bdobd.

The governor of California, Mrs. Krekorian, let her jaw flop silently as she took in the quiet mob of cadets gathered outside of the council chambers.

Kirk had a feeling that the habitually composed woman would not usually be seen wearing that particular expression, but she was hidden from view of the stoic (but clearly very excited) cadets by President McLaren's square frame. McLaren had opted for a quietly stunned look and was blinking owlishly out at the crowd.

Kirk grinned hugely and planted his fists on his hips.

"Those of the Fleet," he began, "we've been _adopted!_"

They laughed appreciatively, and there was a smattering of cheerful applause. Adopted was being taken in: the councilpeople had agreed to their cause. "Barnett is, according to –," Kirk cut himself off and twisted from the waist to look back at the President. "Would you like to, or me?"

"I would, if you don't mind," McLaren nodded staidly. He stepped up to stand beside Kirk. Someone in the crowd squeaked with joy, making McLaren grin. "I find," he announced, sobering, "one Mr. Barnett, current Commodore of Starfleet –," some hissing from the cadets here, "to be guilty of abusing executive power within the Fleet."

More cheering, some fist pumping, and a variety of distinctly inhuman celebratory gestures followed the grand statement. Mrs. Krekorian took her place on Kirk's other side, totally calm. The audience hushed for her.

"I am – if you don't already know – Governor Krekorian," she started, motioning to those who looked confused by her sudden appearance. McLaren was well known as the president of the Federation, but the governor of California wasn't as much of a household name. "I'm in charge of the basic guarantees California allows to all its citizens.

"I find the Academy and Starfleet Headquarters to be committing actions illegal in my state." There was a sudden flash of light as a reporter's old-fashioned camera went off. "I have already ordered San Francisco police to the Academy and Headquarter grounds."

The cadets _erupted_ into a noisy exclamation of pure glee. Kirk beamed over to Spock again, motioning for the commander to join the group on the chamber's steps. The hybrid nodded immediately and started to move towards Jim.

"I've heard," Kerkorian murmured so that the crowd couldn't hear, "that Commander _Spock_ is the one who called for the Revolt, instead of you, Captain."

Kirk shook his head. "No, neither of us _called_ it. The cadets organized everything. The commander and I are just here for management."

Kerkorian's eyebrows twitched with amused suspicion. "Hey, Mr. President, back me up," Kirk protested playfully.

McLaren was busy watching the ebullient crowd. "… No comment."

"Are you alright, sir?" Kirk asked.

McLaren looked back to him distractedly. "… Yes," he said after a beat. "What are you going to do with all of them?"

"… I don't follow."

"Those people over there," he pointed to a largish group of silent people standing towards the back of the mob. "They don't look like they agree with the Revolt. What are you going to do with the people who don't agree with you?"

Kirk stepped closer to McLaren, and leaned in front of him, squinting at the somber collection. "… Well, first of all, those aren't cadets. Those are police." Kirk frowned and turned back to Krekorian. "Governor, did you call the police?"

"What? No." Krekorian craned to look at the strange bunch of police in the back. "I didn't. Maybe a councilperson did? I don't know why they're here."

Spock stepped up behind Kirk silently. "There are also national guard," he murmured, "along the alley." He nodded to a side street that led off towards the Academy.

Kirk checked to make sure that none of the cadets were getting anxious before turning back to McLaren with growing concern. "Sir, did you call the American national guard?"

McLaren look at him like he was crazy. "No. Why would I? I agree with this, remember?"

Krekorian's eyes widened. "Does anyone know if the president of _America_ agrees –?"

Three shots rang out and three people slumped to the ground. The mob of cadets and police shrieked and turned inward; Kirk couldn't tell in the chaos who exactly had pulled the trigger or who had been shot. Kirk felt Spock shift behind him, and then the Vulcan was tugging McLaren and Krekorian back away from the edge of the stairs.

Kirk strained to see who was fighting whom, but it was no use; people were too scared to choose any coherent target. People were peeling off of the crowd and running east, towards the Academy.

The _Academy_, where there was an _arsenal_ and a group of staff who agreed with the cause. "Get to the campus!" Kirk yelled. Acknowledgements were shouted back by struggling cadets, and Kirk ran inside the council chambers.

Councilpeople were straining to get out of the back exit and Kirk had to fight to get closer to the front of the mob. "Get to Starfleet Academy!" he called up the crowd where Spock would surely be. "We need the staff!"

There wasn't any verbal response, but as Kirk made it out of the door he could see that someone was leading the group back towards the campus. He pushed his way to the front.

"Spock, what the fuck was that?" The hybrid shook his head: no one knew.

"It must be that idiot Cross," Krekorian ground out, jogging to keep up with the single-minded Vulcan. "Ever since he won the election he's been crowing about how strong America's anti-terrorism system is. He's been _aching _for a chance to prove himself right."

Spock nodded in agreement. "President Cross is most likely the person who ordered the attack. We had been followed since Market Street, but as the police and guard did not instigate anything we paid them no mind."

"Fine." Kirk looked ahead to where the back gates to the Academy stood closed. "Do you still have your –?"

"Yes." Spock took out his faculty key card and swiped it through the gate's lock pad. The doors fell out of their locked position with a gentle clunk, and Kirk led the way onto the campus.

No one stopped moving until the mob, now a conglomerate of confused councilpeople and spooked cadets, entered the Sciences wing's courtyard. Kirk jogged up a rise that looked over the crowd. "Is anyone hurt?" he shouted.

A few scraped hands waved weakly over the heads of the group. Spock walked heavily halfway up the rise, noted the wounded, and started back down the hill towards the closest injured person. The crowd parted easily for him, and Kirk saw Krekorian and McLaren share a look at the immediate obedience of the cadets.

There was nothing to be done about that now. "Right," Kirk announced, "all cadets need to get to your –,"

There was sickening crunch as a projectile hit a Betazoid cadet in the side. She yelped with panicked surprise before dropping like a stone. Spock, only a few feet away, grabbed her by her shoulders and dragged her deeper into a bunch of Security majors. Kirk leapt off the rise and pushed the president and the governor deeper into the crowd, not certain who the gunman were aiming for.

"Where'd that come from; anyone see?" he demanded. Two more shots sounded and two more cadets suddenly went worryingly limp.

"_ROOF!_" someone yelled. Jim could see Spock in the middle of the mob, curled protectively around the still Betazoid. Kirk was pushing towards the commander when another shot sounded out and the Vulcan slumped alarmingly.

"_Spock!_ _Damnit_, someone get the commander out of sight!" Kirk screamed. Some of the cadets closer to Spock grabbed the Vulcan around the waist and began to half drag, half carry him out of sight of the Sciences building's roof. Kirk crouched slightly and peered up at the top of the building. He couldn't see any snipers.

The councilpeople were being singularly unhelpful. Kirk shoved a few of the more irritating ones out of his way, trying to get to the cadet who'd been shot before Spock.

She was lying on her unwounded side, a dark splotch marring her reds. He carefully prodded around the edge of the mark, but felt nothing. Kirk rolled her over gently, trying to check for an exit wound, and discovered a needle laying next to her stomach.

"A hypo?" he wondered out loud. The guns must've been filled with some sort of tranq dart. But why'd she fallen so _quickly?_ Even Spock had keeled a bit before –

There was a whizzing sound, and then a pop as a dart broke through his shirt. Kirk's eyes widened as he felt the needle penetrate his lower back.

Darkness fell disturbingly quickly.

.bdobd.

Zarabeth and Stevens crouched under a fort in the Tactical Applications room as bullets put holes in the walls. As the fort was nothing more than three desks hastily shoved together, Zarabeth wasn't entirely confident that they'd make it out of the room unharmed.

"Nowmi, you got any more clips down there?" the Tactical professor grunted as he hefted an even heavier phaser cannon over the side of a chair. Zarabeth peered down at the dwindling number of phaser batteries that was piled in between her knees. She hadn't even know that phaser cannons _could_ run out of juice before: wasn't that the point of a phaser, no reloading?

"We're running low," she responded grimly, laying a few more glowing cylinders next to the man's hip. He made an irritated groaning noise before reaching down and quickly swapping cartridges. Empty batteries, drained of power and light, were tossed carelessly onto the floor.

Zarabeth swiped them under her desk with a carefully timed sweep of her leg. T'Panya'd sent Stevens back over to the Academy after Spock had made it clear that he wasn't going to let her film the cadet mob. Stevens had found her in a position very similar to the one she was currently in, only there were more full phaser rounds under the desk.

The cameraman'd protested at being shoved unceremoniously underneath furniture until a national guardsman (or possibly a policeman; no one was quite sure who was shooting what at whom any more) emptied a full clip of old-fashioned metal bullets over the desk blockade. Stevens had shut up and settled for shots of Zarabeth, the Tactical professor's lower body, and the underside of a desk.

Zarabeth's comm rang as a cadet majoring in Tactical hauled out a second phaser cannon from the back room. T'Panya's voice was almost drowned out by the sounds of gun parts being hastily snapped together.

"The captain and the commander have fallen!" the Vulcan woman shouted. "We are in front of the Sciences wing; Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, and three cadets have been shot!"

The sound of the Tactical professor's phaser stopped abruptly. There was an abbreviated conference between the cadet and him before the cadet took over the professor's cannon. The teacher contorted to look at Zarabeth. "Is what she sayin' true?"

Zarabeth shrugged wordlessly, turning back to her comm. "T'Pa – T'Panya, damnit, shut up!"

The almost babbling woman abruptly stopped talking. "_What_," Zarabeth said slowly and clearly, "is going _on?_"

T'Panya took a deep breath that sounded as a rush of static over the comm pickup. "The crowd of cadets, led by Commander Spock, met in front of the council chambers. Police and national guardsman fired upon them there. Captain Kirk, who had been at the council chambers before the crowd was led there, ordered a return to the Academy campus. The cadets did so, accompanied by the councilpeople, President McLaren, and Governor Krekorian."

The professor's eyes were growing larger and more horrified with every second. "Commander Spock opened the Academy's back gates with some sort of key card, and the mob was led to the Sciences courtyard. Captain Kirk moved to a small hill in order to distribute orders, but was interrupted by sniper fire. Three cadets and Commander Spock were shot and have not moved since being wounded. The captain ran to evaluate a cadet's condition, and was shot in the lower back.

"All wounded parties must be moved to Medical facilities, for none have responded to any stimuli since being injured. No one can move because of the snipers that are still in place on the roof of the Sciences wing."

"_That's_ the information I was looking for!" the professor crowed, and crawled along the floor towards a wall comm unit.

Zarabeth was busy trying to keep T'Panya from panicking. "They – You_ don't _know what's in the needles, alri– T'Panya I can't say anything with you interrupting me –,"

Stevens poked his camera out from under the desk to film the professor's progress, much to the annoyance of the cadet still shooting the phaser cannon. The student kicked out awkwardly at the camera's lens, which was hastily withdrawn by a loudly cursing Stevens.

The professor's voice came over the Academy PA system. "Attention all staff: Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, and three cadets have been shot and injured near the Sciences wing by snipers on the roof of the Sciences wing. Volunteer forces are required so as to allow for the safe transport of all wounded people to a Medical facility. Please gather in the main hall."

There was an infuriated shriek that sounded from the next room over, where Security/Practical Applications professor was busy holding off the majority of the national guard. There were a series of loud shots, and a disturbing number of thumps. The people firing into the Tactical room stopped abruptly.

A thick, stunned silence reigned over the room. The cadet at the cannon blinked in the direction of the Prac App room with obvious shock. No one, it appeared, had ever considered just _shooting_ the bastards.

The Tactical professor stood slowly and carefully picked a way over to the wall dividing the two rooms. He stuck his head through the door. There was a muffled conference, and the looked back to the student gunner, shrugged slightly, and walked into the Prac App room.

Stevens slowly moved his camera out from under the desk, waiting for the cadet to kick at it again. The cadet stood instead, brushing plaster dust off of his legs and stomach and jogging lightly over to his professor. Stevens squirmed out from under the desk, stretched hugely, and turned, grinning, to Zarabeth.

"Guess they got tired of playing nice, huh?"

Zarabeth snorted hair out of her face, taking Stevens' offer of a hand and pulling herself up. "That's not really a good thing," she noted tiredly. "If Starfleet shoots, then the other guys are going to be lethal too." She began hesitantly moving over to the Prac App door; she'd broken a heel pretty early in the raid and was just walking in her socks, and there was broken furniture everywhere.

Stevens followed. "It sounded like they already decided to use lethal force."

"Which is probably why that other professor got so pissed: they broke the rules." Zarabeth looked into the Prac App room, scoping it out for potential traps before tripping lightly down the clean stairs. The Security/Prac App room, unlike Tact App, was set up auditorium-style, with seats piled high up to the rafters. The two professors and a good ten cadets were in the middle of a discussion on the central circular stage.

Three of the cadets glared ineffectively at the two media personnel, but the majority of the Fleet employees were totally engrossed in their conversation. Zarabeth didn't hear anything of it, though, for the minute she made it down to the bottom of the room the group was already moving out into the hall.

Zarabeth and Stevens followed them wordlessly. The corridor was littered with bodies – she couldn't tell if they were dead by sight alone, but either way no one seemed to be paying the limp forms any mind. Either they were just heavily stunned, or no one cared enough to drag corpses out of the hallway.

Zarabeth suspected the former. All sentiment aside, the professors wouldn't like to leave carcasses in the corridor: it'd block the passageway and make it harder to set up blockades.

Every now and then a few cadets would come out of room and join the somber procession. By the time they got to the main hall, the group was a crowd.

Zarabeth carefully surveyed the cadets lined up in the hall. It looked like every Vulcan cadet was in attendance. There was a huge turnout of Medical majors, which was to be expected, but Security and Tactical also had a large representation. Zarabeth was dying to ask where all of the Sciences majors had gone, but figured that no one would bother to answer her.

"…We going?" the Tactical professor asked brusquely. The cadets nodded in military unison. "Move out. Pace three."

The cadets turned quietly and waited for the two professors to take the head of the group. Zarabeth, feeling like a voyeur, tagged along with the Security professor and got a spot up front. "And!" shouted the Tactical man. The group began to march.

The campus was eerily deserted. The sound of feet on gravel and grass was the only noise in the area. Zarabeth looked quietly up at the roofs of all of the wings. There were clearly snipers on there _somewhere._ She was struck by how simple their job was, right now: everyone was right out in the open. The only reason anyone in the procession was alive was that there were no orders to kill anyone in the group. Kirk's crowd hadn't stood a chance.

Zarabeth frowned as she realized that she had no idea who could have possibly ordered the national guard to fire on a mob that contained _the president of the Federation_. She wasn't going to find those answers here. She opened her comm as quietly as possible and put a call through to a colleague in Paris who covered Council news. She made sure to turn the volume on the device way down: Tara had a way of shouting his answers.

"_Yeah?_" The normally ear-shattering level of Bill Tara's voice was diminished to a sort of stage whisper. But it was clear from his inflections that he was shouting.

"Tara, it's Nowmi. I'm on the Fleet Academy campus and I don't know who's shooting at who."

Zarabeth belatedly realized that the entire group behind her was straining to hear what Tara had to say. They were in this, too. She turned up the volume a bit. "_Nowmi?_" Tara asked disbelievingly. "What the_ fuck_ are –?"

"No _time_, Tara, what's going _on_ over there? I can't get any news from down here."

"… Okay," Tara said, uncharacteristically meekly. "Right, so…" Zarabeth could hear him shuffling his PADDs around, looking for the right news feed. "_Right!_ Okay. The governor of California, mayor of San Francisco, and president of the Federation all are _with _the Rebellion, but president of the US and the head of Council are against it. The president _of the US_ ordered the national guard to attack any _rebel_, but the guard were _also _told by the Federation President to _attack anti-rebels_. The governor sent in state police in _favor_ of rebellion."

"… Right. Got it. Thanks Tara." Zarabeth went to sign off.

"Hey, wait," Tara interrupted. "What_ is_ going _on_ over there? I'm getting a shitload of conflicting reports. Who, _exactly_, has been shot?"

"Captain Kirk, Commander Spock," Zarabeth rattled off, "and three cadets, and a bunch of national guardsman. That's all I've heard."

"_No_ civilians?"

"I don't know; I'm trapped on the campus, remember? There are snipers on the roofs of the wings here; I think I'll be shot if I try to leave."

"… Right." Zarabeth could hear him send in her response to the network. "Thanks."

"No problem. Nowmi out."

"Tara out."

Zarabeth clicked her comm shut and looked over to the professors. They were staring at her oddly. "What?"

"… How could civilians be dead?" the Security teacher asked. "They're_ never _to be shot."

Stevens shrugged. "Doesn't stop a lot of people."

"And," Zarabeth added, "they could kill each other. Pro-Revolt meets anti-Revolt, they duke it out, they wind up with two dead bodies. That sort of thing."

An abbreviated moan sounded from the Tactical instructor's throat. Stevens grinned evilly. "Hey, at least they're not _here_."

The Security professor laughed humorlessly and pointed to the Sciences wing with her chin. "There they are."

Zarabeth was confused before she spotted the sizeable crowd that was gathered behind a dorm building opposite the Sciences wing. Her eyebrows rose slowly. "… That is a _lot_ of people."

"Eh," the Tactical man shrugged. "Could be more. Medical, prepare for influx," he called down the line. "We're coming up on the mob."

.bdobd.


	28. Channel Hopping

A/N: This is the second chapter I've posted today, so if you're confused, it's most likely because you skipped chapter 27. Any mistakes are my own.

.bdobd.

The captain, the commander, and the injured cadets were all lying on the grassy area behind the building opposite the Sciences wing. Medical and Tactical had swarmed the five wounded people. There was also a Betazoid cadet that was being looked over by the most senior medical cadets and the sole Sciences minor in the group. Councilpeople had been segregated to a separate section of the grass, a good fifteen feet away from any Starfleet personnel. They didn't look very happy about this, but none of them were stupid enough to argue.

"They're tranquilizers," the Sciences minor announced. "They're pretty standard, except for the fact that they're calibrated for three hundred pound humans."

One of the Medical students working on the commander's group piped up, "The darts must have been just for the Commander, then. Kirk was shot with a load for two hundred. The snipers were shooting with three hundred darts until they got the Commander, and then switched over."

"So they're using two hundreds now?" the Security professor asked.

"No reason for them to switch back to the heavier dosages," a Tactical student pointed out. "I don't think that the police would be ordered to _kill_ anyone. They've gotta know what's gonna happen if they pump a person full of too much sedatives."

"Right," the professor nodded. "Security cadets, with me." The professor led a swath of cadets into the building through the back door.

"Where are they going?" Zarabeth asked a Tactical quietly.

"They want to take out any guns on top of our building," the Talaxian mouthed. "If they can get the roof, then they can shell the top of Sciences and clear the way for the sick people to be taken to Medical."

"… Did that Betazoid girl –?"

"No." The cadet sighed. "Betazoids don't do well with refined chemicals." The two shared a moment of silence, staring mournfully over at the dead cadet, whose body was being dragged away from the busily working medical students.

The moment was broken by the sound of projectile weapons. Zarabeth saw Stevens squint and aim his camera at a window in the building: Security must have found the police/national guard forces. Bullets echoed oddly inside of the building as people shot up and down stairwells.

The enemy team on the Sciences wing fired three warning shots over the roof: Are you all right? "What building are we behind?" Zarabeth whispered. She looked around and realized that the Tactical forces had moved to guard the sides of the building from opposing fire, flanking the front stairwell. They were out in the open, and resting their lives on the strength of the snipers' assumed 'No kill' order. It seemed a monumentally stupid gamble.

Zarabeth half skittered, half crawled over to the knot of people surrounding the unconscious five shot people. "What building are we behind?" she asked the group.

"Dorms. And shut up!" someone hissed. Zarabeth heard Stevens snort and glared at him.

The window Stevens' camera was focused on exploded in a shower of tempered glass. The people below the window flinched with displeasure as pea-sized chunks fell on their heads and ran down the back of their necks. The snipers on the Sciences building shot again over the dorm, worried: Who is holding this roof?

The Security team answered with a series of well thrown overloaded phasers. Zarabeth flinched as the time bombs hit the roof and exploded: there were five more phaser batteries, gone. Unless paranoid Sciences majors were in the habit of stashing spare charge packs under their dorm mattresses, the cadet team would soon run out of ammo.

Smoke cleared with the infuriated shrieks of sniper fire. Chunks were taken out of the dorm's molding as the Security forces went about blowing every window in the Sciences building out of existence.

It was terribly loud, and Zarabeth almost didn't hear her comm go off. She scrabbled ungracefully behind the pack tending to the living wounded and flipped the device open, three fingers covering her opposite ear. She saw Stevens focus on her out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah?" she shouted.

"Nowmi?" Admiral R'Vish yelled. "That you?"

"Yes, Admiral? What is it?"

"I'm sending you a comm connection!" The Admiral answered, trying to make herself heard over the sounds of falling cement and breaking glass. "It's a channel to the national guard forces; it looks like it's from the security sectors of the American president! Order the guard to not shoot until _directly provoked_, and then for god's sakes stop firing!"

_That _was what the Sciences people were doing: forging a fake channel! "Will do!" Zarabeth agreed. She motioned for a Tactical to scuttle into the dorms and tell the Security team about the plan.

Zarabeth flipped her comm closed and checked the file R'Vish had sent her. It was a computer program that changed her comm's serial identification number from a civilian model to something that looked like a comm from a high government agency. She opened the file as the national guard suddenly stopped shooting: they must've been warned that they would be receiving new orders. The cadet team slowed their rate of fire.

The sound of a comm ringing came from the roof of the Sciences wing. Zarabeth held her breath and prepared her best Hassled Secretary voice. "… Who is this?" a male voice asked suspiciously.

"One of the people for the US," Zarabeth said in a rush. "Just got orders sir – sorry for the disrespect before, by the way, sir – that you can't fire – national guard, that is, sir –,"

"_Out with it already!_"

"I'm _gettin'_ there!" Nowmi protested breathlessly. She saw a couple cadets smother horrified giggles. "I was _sayin_ that you can't shoot unless 'explicitly provoked'. Says right here, sir."

"Where's 'here'?"

"… Well, here. You know. On the desk."

There was a groan from the other end of the line. A few of the Medical students were wearing smiles that split their faces in half. "… Fine," the national guardsman huffed. "Explicit provocation. Does the orders say anything about going after Kirk and Spock?"

Nowmi stiffened. "… I… don't see anything like that here, no."

"Alright," the man answered obliviously. "Orders received. Carson out."

Nowmi shut her comm quickly before she was forced to come up with a fake name that could be checked against a database. She raised her eyebrows at a Tactical: Are we going?

The cadet looked up at the roof of the dorm. Someone at the top made a thumbs up sign, and there was a loud, repetitive clunking as the cadets came down the stairs in combat boots. The Security professor poked her head out of the back door and mouthed something to the Sciences minor standing over the Betazoid's corpse. The minor shook her head, and the team filed out, a few of them pausing to bow to the dead cadet's body.

"We ready?" the Security professor asked in a normal tone of voice. The words sounded oddly tinny after the prolonged whispering and shooting. The Tactical professor nodded.

"Tactical, out!" the Tactical instructor ordered. The Medical students grabbed their patients and hoisted them gently, and the Security forces made a protective shell around the wounded parties. Everyone else – media and councilpeople included – was forced to walk on the outer edge of the safe zone.

The corpulent group shuffled slowly out from behind the dorm. The snipers could be heard cocking their weapons longingly, but everyone knew that they weren't going to shoot. Tactical took the lead and surrounded the councilpeople, herding the mob towards the main Academy campus.

There was a brief round of phaser blasts that rocked the dorm. Councilpeople either groaned with exasperation or whimpered, depending on their fancy. The Tactical professor turned and glared at Nowmi, who shrugged helplessly.

"Police!" a cadet yelled. Both professors swore viciously: in the heat of the moment, everyone had forgotten that the city police were after the Revolution.

The mob broke apart. "Head up to the Academy lobby!" the Tactical teacher yelled. "Security, focus on the wounded, Tactical, on the councilpeople!"

Nowmi cursed: she and Stevens didn't fit on either of those lists. "And remember that the guardsmen at the Academy probably didn't get the Explicit Provocation order!" she shouted after the rapidly disappearing Security and Medical forces. There was some prolonged filthy language, and the jogging group changed course abruptly, probably hoping to avoid the major wings and the sniper fire that would be waiting for them.

Stevens tugged sharply on her sleeve and began tugging her along with the rest of the group, which was heading towards the back of the dorm in an attempt to hug the main gate for as long as possible. "Wait a minute!" a man on the Sciences roof shouted. "The Academy men got _different orders?_"

Nowmi's eyes widened and a huge swath of the councilpeople tried to whack her over the head. More police fire sounded from the other side of the dorm, and everyone decided that running was a bit more important than revenge.

Nowmi stayed a bit closer to the Tactical people, just in case.

.bdobd.

The trip back to the main Academy construct was loud, scary, and riddled with bad news. About halfway to the main hall, the police that were following them clipped a national guardsman and killed him. The national guard, thinking that the cadets had just taken out one of their men, fired on the police, who retaliated.

All of this was sort of good for the actual cadets, but it was terribly depressing, especially when the guard got close enough to see who they'd just killed.

When they finally did get back to the Academy, it was discovered that enemy forces had taken the Admiralty's headquarters back over. The Admiralty was now for all intents and purposes that _national guard's_ headquarters, witch was disturbing, because the Admiralty was only about a hundred meters from the main campus complex.

There was some good news. The reason the guard was at the Admiralty was that Lieutenant-Commander Giotto had taken over the school's security forces and completely destroyed all national guardsmen there. Also, Doctor McCoy had beamed onto the campus and taken over the Academy hospital. The captain, commander, and cadets were sent post-haste, while the unfortunate Betazoid was put in a body bag and sent to the morgue downstairs.

Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Chekov were directing things in the main hall, and Zarabeth got to bug them about why a school had a morgue in the basement. "After the _Narada_, it made sense," Sulu explained shortly. "Now lemme alone; I'm busy."

Zarabeth ordered T'Panya to cover the defense system, which she did with an impressively small amount of grumbling. Stevens then came to her with a rumor that Pike was holding a conference with President McLaren, Captain Nimeav, and Admirals Calta, Archer, R'Vish, and Barnett. Zarabeth and Stevens wormed their way into the room with a minimum of fuss and settled down for a great show.

R'Vish and Calta were in the process of trying to convince Barnett to order the police off of Starfleet forces. "It doesn't make any sense that you called them _anyway!_" R'Vish fumed. "They're not even under your _jurisdiction!_"

"I know the mayor," Barnett waved the issue away. "Everything's just getting out of hand –,"

"They are _minors_," Calta hissed. "They –,"

"No one's _died_. It's not like I'm ordering them to _kill _anyone," Barnett protested.

It went on like this for some time. One the other side of the room, McLaren and Archer were trying to figure out a way to keep the Council safe, while Pike and Nimeav (who was on a holoscreen; the captain was still patrolling and couldn't make it to the Academy) were desperately contacting every captain. Zarabeth crept over to Nimeav's screen.

"Who're you looking for, specifically?" she asked quietly.

Nimeav, who was always looked the most distinguished captain of the bunch, sounded like she wanted to tear her hair out. "Tranya," she hissed. "That _thing_," she motioned to Barnett, "over there is probably blocking some of our comm signals so that we can't get backup. The bastard's not even supposed to be out of his _cell_; I can't _believe_ that Calta convinced R'Vish to have him released!"

Pike shushed her. "Did you say you had Nimeret a while ago?"

Nimeav sighed and turned to Pike. "Yeah," she brought up a channel screen. "He was right – God damn it!" The screen was totally blank. "I'm gonna _kill_ that –,"

"_Nimeav_."

"Sorry, Admiral."

Barnett was still singing for freedom. "But no one's _died_," he argued. "I agree that McLaren's situation was unfortunate, but –,"

"You fired on the President of the Federation!" R'Vish shrieked. "You egomaniacal bastard, what the fuck –!"

"Someone has died."

Everyone turned to Zarabeth. "What." Archer demanded.

"A Betazoid," Zarabeth continued. "She was shot with a dart that was filled with enough tranquilizer to knock out a three hundred pound human. Three other cadets and Captain Kirk and Commander Spock were shot too; they're in the Academy Sickbay."

Pike's eyes were wide and his face was pale.

Zarabeth belatedly remembered that Kirk was his favorite captain.

Admiral Pike _exploded._ Zarabeth shrunk back as the absolutely insane man charged towards Barnett, who was curled up hissing at his potential attacker like some sort of snake. Nimeav looked positively gleeful.

Pike was _screaming_ obscenities at the top of his lungs, and Calta and R'Vish were holding him back, trying to keep him from murdering the commodore. McLaren and Archer had frozen in their seats, staring, blinking, at the former captain crying bloody murder. Barnett had not, for some reason, moved, and was still parked in his chair, _yelling back at Pike_, accusing the man of emotional compromise.

Nimeav shrieked and dove for her console; Stevens swung his camera from the admiral who was literally _shaking_ with rage over to the captain who was scrabbling at her keyboard. "I lost Tranya's signal!" she shouted. "Shit; Pike, I lost her signal; where's Tranya?"

Pike was in no condition to help; he'd started out yelling about Kirk and Spock and had now moved on to the dead cadet, which was visibly affecting R'Vish. Zarabeth was torn between doing what little she could to locate all of the captains and helping keep Pike from ripping Barnett into little itty bitty pieces.

R'Vish looked like she just wanted to let Pike go and turn Barnett into soup; Tranya was _her_ favorite captain and it looked like Barnett was the one putting the Orion in danger.

Pike and his restrainers were right in front of the door into the room, so when Senior Vulcan Councilman Prime burst into the room, the first thing he saw was a murderously angry Pike and the two other admirals, who were rapidly losing faith in their efforts.

Prime pinched Pike's shoulder, which shut him up for a spell, and made his way over to Pike's console. He waved the distraught R'Vish away and pushed Calta towards Nimeav to calm her down.

Zarabeth knew better to interrupt the Vulcan in the middle of whatever-it-was, so went over to bug Calta instead. "Is she," Zarabeth pointed to Nimeav, who was sitting on screen shaking, "your favorite?"

Calta was sitting facing her, trying to calm the incredibly worried woman down. He glared at the reporter. "Isn't it normal to have a favorite? I just like her best; I'm not trying to put anyone else down."

"I didn't mean to imply that, sir," Zarabeth bowed.

Favorites weren't someone you wanted to do better than everyone else, really. It was more like favorites were just the one person that one _particular_ admiral happened to get along with better. It was natural. But that didn't make it fair, or make it less biased, or make that admiral less emotionally compromised.

Zarabeth's comm chirped, and she moved away from the trembling Nimeav (stepping over the utterly unconscious Pike) to answer. "Nowmi here."

"It's Uhura."

Zarabeth's eyebrows flew up. "Lieutenant Uhura! What's going on?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing. I just got a call from Admiral Archer saying that Pike was going mad and that Captain Tranya just went missing. Is that correct, or is he high on gun dust?"

Zarabeth couldn't repress her shocked snort of amusement. "No, no, that all actually happened."

"Do you need my help?"

Zarabeth looked over to the Councilman, who she knew was listening. The Vuclan nodded without taking his eyes off of the screen. "Councilman Prime says yes."

"Prime?" Uhura sounded almost happy. "I didn't know he was there. Alright, set your comm down in a clear spot: I'm going to beam down from that marker."

"Got it." Zarabeth moved a few chairs, and Stevens helped shove Pike's legs out of the way. She set her comm down carefully. "Alright!" she shouted at the speaker.

Immediately there was the shimmery metallic space that marked a transporter beam. Uhura must've been talking to her in the transporter room. The lieutenant materialized, looked around at the wreckage, gave Barnett the middle finger, and marched over to help Councilman Prime do whatever-it-was.

Stevens got a few great shots of Barnett's face, and Zarabeth waggled her eyebrows at Archer: your favorite's Uhura?

Archer nodded no. 'But she's good,' he mouthed.

_That _was undeniable. Zarabeth waved jauntily at the rather sick-looking McLaren, then walked across the room to look at what the councilman and the lieutenant were up to.

They were sending a channel _somewhere_. Zarabeth squinted at the screen and tried to decode the serial number that they were trying to take over. Uhura caught the look and peered up at her with amusement. "Valpac," she explained. "We _just_ fixed them; they're strong. We're rerouting our messages through the Valpac carrier, so any filter that's blocking our signals will be confused. We should be able to talk to the captains that way."

.bdobd.

Jim woke up in a hospital bed with McCoy glaring down at him. "You got shot," Bones said bluntly as Jim blinked with fuzzy confusion, "being a fucking idiot, like usual."

"Wha?" Jim blinked.

"Barnett's not shooting at the cadets any more," McCoy continued with crossed arms. "But there're still those national guard idiots out there, so _don't do anything stupid._ There're a couple captains no one's heard from in hours, so Pike and Prime _ordered_ me to wake you up, the bastards. You have any idea how many stimulant packs I've gone through?"

"Not enough?" Jim guessed hopefully.

"Too many. Get up to Pike's teacher's office." Jim shook his head a bit. "It's on the second floor?"

"Any guardsmen… in the Academy?"

"Nah, but there's a fuckload in the Admiralty. So don't do anything_ STUPID._"

"Will do." Jim saluted weakly, making Bones snort.

"Come on, outta bed. I've got real patients to see ya brat." Jim stuck his tongue out at the affectionately irritated doctor and slowly made his way out of the Sickbay.

Jim made sure he wasn't being watched, then sped off towards where he knew Spock would be. He wasn't quite as out of it as he'd pretended.

Spock was lying in his own little area set apart from all of the noisy, human patients. He was green, but in a healthy Alien I Am in the Process of Healing way, not his sick 'green', which was actually a shade of orange-yellow.

Jim was completely disoriented when he walked out of the Medical offices and wasn't met with the _Enterprise_ halls. 'Right,' he remembered. '_Academy_.' He set off at a steady pace towards where Pike and Prime must be.

Prime's desk had been flipped upside down to reveal the huge, paranoia inducing military strength comm that he kept strapped under his keyboard. Jim'd only seen it once before, right after the _Narada_ and the Academy was completely renovated. "What'd I miss?" he asked the group of holographic faces.

Prime was there, but not in the room. He and R'Vish and Nimeav were on conference call, with Pike supporting the channels from his desk. "Tranya hasn't been heard from in a good hour," Pike said, walking towards Jim and brushing dust off of his shirt. "Can you try contacting her on your comm? It's on a different frequency, right?"

Jim nodded. "All of the _Enterprise_ equipment is." Jim selected Tranya's number from his contacts list and waited for the captain to answer his call. "Hey Pike, why're you dusty?"

The admiral blushed. His entire front side was covered in a fine layer of gray. "Prime nerve pinched me."

Jim gaped at him. "Holy fuck, what'd you _do?_"

"I… um…" Pike actually _squirmed_. "When Nowmi told me that Barnett had shot you and Spock and killed that Betazoid I –,"

"Wait: she _died?_"

Pike nodded sadly. "Those bullets were tranq darts made for a three hundred pound human. They were only meant for Spock."

Jim's eyebrows rose. "I took a three hundred pound dart and I'm awake?"

"No, _you _got a two hundred. They changed rounds after they shot Spock."

"Right." Jim sighed. "That shouldn't've happened."

"Agreed." Pike and Jim stared at the floor, Jim's comm humming slightly as it fought to connect with Tranya's ship.

"So, what about the neck pinch?"

"Oh! Well, when I heard, I… lost it, and I went after Barnett."

"Really? _Nice._" Jim snorted. "And Prime came in and you dropped."

"Like a stone." Pike shook his head ruefully. "I never saw it coming. I woke up about half an hour later feeling like an elephant had just kicked my neck."

"Yeah, those things are not fun."

Jim's comm shrieked. He offered it to Pike. "You want it, or you want me to answer?"

"You do it." Pike walked back around his desk. "I'll tell R'Vish."

"Gotcha." Jim flipped open his comm, and a rush of Tranya overflowed the speakers.

"Jim? _Jim?_ Kirk, _damnit,_ pick up your thrice-damned _fucking comm_ –!"

"_Tranya,_ good to hear from you too."

"_Kirk?_ Thank _gods_ you picked up; what the _fuck_ is going on? I'm getting all of these call requests, but Valpac wouldn't support them all because they're precious system is too damned delicate. What's happening?"

"… It kinda depends where _you_ are," Kirk said slowly, watching at R'Vish and Nimeav embracing in hologram as Prime watched on in bemusement.

"I'm _orbiting_. I'm just above you."

"Get down here, then. The national guard's still after the Academy from the Admiralty HQ and I want you to scare them off."

"Can do!" Tranya signed off with a jaunty click. Pike stuck his head around the column of faces.

"Where's she going?"

"She's coming here."

"_What?_ Why?"

Kirk grinned. "Think the _Salient_ can scare off a few of the guard?"

.bdobd.

The sight of the _Salient _bearing down on the Academy was either inspiring or absolutely terrifying, depending on your sympathies.

Jim cheered.

The ship managed to convince most of the national guard to leave without firing a single shot. Giotto's shooting from the Academy did the rest, and in no time at all the Academy and the Admiralty were freed.

The ship did totally freak out McLaren, who called, panicking, a few minutes after all of the guard disappeared, demanding to know what the _fuck_ had happened. Jim explained while Tranya went over to free the _Enterprise_ from the dock, because Scotty had called and said that Base Security had finally made a decision, and they weren't fond of the Revolt.

So the _Salient _toddled over to the Base, and there was a lovely little lightshow, and the _Salient_ toddled back, looking very pleased with herself. Scotty had called Kirk and was bragging about how amazing everyone was when Nowmi sidled up and tried (miserably) to casually ask for a photo op with the _Salient_ and the _Enterprise_ together.

Kirk groaned and said he would ask. "Tranya?"

"Ye-es?" She was in a fantastic mood.

"Nowmi wants a photo op."

"_Awesome._"

Jim snorted. "Fine," he said to the jubilant reporter. "It won't hurt, anyway."

Tranya was moving into position while Scotty beamed Sulu up to the ship to help maneuver the _Enterprise_ out of the dock. Nimeret called Jim and sounded completely confused. "Is there something going on?" the oblivious man asked. "I just got a call from Tranya saying that I need to get to San Francisco."

"Well, there's kind of been a Revolution," Jim said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I guess we… sorta forgot to tell you."

"Um. Yeah. No shit. So, um, what's going on right now?"

"There'd gonna be a photo op." Jim looked over to where Nowmi was talking to Stevens. "And it's gonna be soon, too."

"… Warp?"

"I would."

"Righto."

Nimeret signed off. Jim shook his head, bemused. Nimeret wasn't at all concerned with politics, which Jim completely understood. It did mean that he was a perpetual two weeks late on all things relating to superior officers, but if that was his choice, so be it.

Uhura shuffled nervously over to where Jim was standing. "Captain," she hissed. "Admiral Archer told me that there's a situation down in the main hall. He's there and he wants you to help him."

Kirk nodded and followed as the lieutenant began to jog down the corridor. "Any details?"

Uhura flinched but didn't turn. "All of the councilpeople are alive; that's the good thing. But the cadets sort of… locked the anti-Revolution ones up in the brig." Kirk rolled his eyes and groaned, making Uhura laugh softly. "Yeah. Archer's worried and he wants you to –,"

"Make them feel bad about being bad. No problem." Uhura stepped aside as they came up on the doorway to the main hall. Kirk entered the huge lobby to a strong, sustained applause. Most of the cadets had gathered in the room to congratulate themselves on a job well done. He nodded accordingly and found a good spot near the back where the acoustics were better.

Kirk crossed his arms and glared at the cadets, who quickly lost their grins and began to look nervous. "… You _locked up _the _councilpeople?_" he growled.

Students squirmed. People began to stare at their shoes, and at the little space in between their shoes. "If you," Kirk continued menacingly, "want to go ahead and be like _Barnett_, then go right ahead. But I will have _no_ part in it!"

Kirk settled in for a good, long, negative critique.

.bdobd.

The councilpeople were freed by a sheepish collective. The majority of the cadet population were staring at their shoelaces with shame. Everyone looked rather pitifully at Jim, who could barely keep himself from grinning. The _Enterprise_ crew only looked so beaten after Spock had 'had words' with them; it'd been a while since a smackdown had worked so effectively for Kirk.

Jim was considering whether it'd be a good idea to address them again when T'Panya, who Jim thought had been off crooning at defensive rifle fire, dashed over looking uncharacteristically flustered. "The _Odyssey-A_ has been sighted over the Academy, Captain Kirk," the Vulcan reported.

"Oh, good," Jim sighed, "Nimeret's finally here! … Hey, where's Uhura?"

"She has gone to collect the admirals, sir," T'Panya bowed slightly. "Do you have any orders?"

Kirk stared contemplatively at a patch of wall just over T'Panya's head. "… Not for you, right now. I'm calling McCoy."

Bones was not happy to hear from him. "What the fuck are you _doing?_"

T'Panya did an amazing horrified gasping noise at the blatant insubordination. Jim smothered a laugh. "Comming you. How's Spock?"

"A bit rough around the edges, but about fine. Why?"

"I need him," Jim explained vaguely. "Can you put him on?"

He could practically hear Bones' suspicion, but he handed the comm over to Spock nonetheless. "Captain."

"Spock, good to hear from you again. Listen: can you make it up to the roof?"

"… I believe so." Spock let the unasked question, 'Why _exactly _are you asking this?' hang in the silence that followed.

"Good. Nowmi needs a favor and I'm a mood to give it to her. Can you meet me in the main hall?"

"Now, I presume?"

"Yep."

"Affirmative." Noisy sounds of doctoral protest screeched from Spock's side of the connection. Bones must be having a bit of a conniption. "… Doctor McCoy does not support this endeavor."

"Really."

"Indeed: it was not an unforeseeable event," Spock replied calmly, driving Bones into another loud rage. Jim snorted.

"Good," Jim nodded. He winced as his back twinged. "Actually, change of plans: I'm sending T'Panya up to Medical to get you. Have Bones prep some more stimulants for me; I think this set's wearing off."

"Acknowledged."

"Kirk out."

"Spock out."

Kirk turned to T'Panya with orders, but the woman looked as if she would start to levitate from excitement if she didn't move soon. He just gestured for her to move, instead, and she took off.

.bdobd.


	29. Translation

A/N: I had expected this to be longer, but I looked at my notes and realized that really, what this needed was a clean cut.

So that is what I did. I hope you enjoy.

.bdobd.

T'Panya's controls were in poor condition. This was evidenced by the excessive amount of urgency she displayed when she burst into the Academy's medical wing.

Doctor McCoy preformed an admirable if ill-prepared attempt to calm the flustered Vulcan, but T'Panya was too deeply entrenched in her stress and excitement to listen to the man's pleas. "Captain Kirk asks that Commander Spock meet him in the main hall; the captain also requires stimulants to –,"

"We know," McCoy interrupted. "Jim was talking to _us_ over the comm, remember? We heard everything. Are you ready to go?"

"I – Yes," T'Panya nodded shortly. "Is the commander –,"

"I am prepared," Spock answered, rolling off of his bed to stand next to the exasperated physician. T'Panya blinked once to absorb the information, and then all but bolted from the room, presumably heading towards the main hall. McCoy peered after her with obvious astonishment.

"What _happened?_"

"Her mental blockades have failed." Spock walked out of the sick room into the hallway. McCoy followed him closely. "They have been weak since she beamed down to the Tellaritian colony with the captain. The strain of the Revolt has broken them entirely."

"Huh." McCoy stepped over a patch of ground that was darkened by a liquid of questionable origin. "I thought Vulcans got violent when they lost their shields."

"She is violent, in a fashion."

"Well, physically violent."

Spock crept carefully down the final flight of stairs. He had issues with Terran stairwells at the best of times, as his legs and pelvis were designed almost exclusively for walking over sand. Further complicating the issue were the dataPADDs that littered the walkway, hastily discarded in the wake of the apparently successful Revolt.

The main lobby was sparsely populated. What people were present were gathered in a loose crowd at the opposite end of the hall. Spock attempted to approach the group cautiously, but McCoy adopted an opposing strategy that involved cursing at James Kirk and threateningly brandishing a hypo full of stimulants. People turned at the racket and parted quickly to admit an irritated Chief Medical Officer into their midst.

A short yip confirmed what Spock had suspected: Jim was in the middle of the crowd, holding court.

"_Bo-ones!_" Jim whined. "What was that – Oh._ Ohhhh_." The human's moan turned undeniably sexual. "_Stimulants_." Jim hummed happily as the chemicals began to take affect. "_Thank _you."

"You're an idiot." McCoy responded flatly. "A fucking idiot."

Spock nodded to Uhura, Stevens, and Nowmi, who waved him over. "We're working on the photo," Nowmi explained unnecessarily. "Can you call Tranya and Nimeret? We want to have a panoramic shot of them and the _Enterprise_ over the Academy, and I need someone they'll listen to to make them line up right."

Spock nodded and sent the message to the captains through their respective Communications departments. "Should I also contact Engineer Scott?"

"Already done," Uhura responded. "The cadets and faculty are all in place, and Stevens knows where he needs to go?" Uhura's statement trailed off into a question. Stevens nodded and hefted his camera, marching cheerfully out of the building to the front of the campus. "All we need to do is move this mob to the roof."

Spock narrowed his eyes. "You are certain that the roof has been –,"

Nowmi grinned and looked over his shoulder. "Giotto, you wanna reassure the Commander here?"

Lieutenant-Commander Giotto appeared from the 'mob' of twelve. "I scoped it out myself, Commander," Giotto saluted. "I'd put my career on that floor being safe."

"Very well." Spock looked over to where Jim was laughing with Admirals Archer and Pike. "I will inform the Captain."

Giotto murmured some response that Spock paid no attention to. Jim was waving Spock into his inner circle. "I'm so glad to see you," the human said sincerely. "Are you alright?"

"Affirmative." Spock broke eye contact before he said or did something he would regret. Admiral Pike looked amused. "Admiral Pike, is there something I should know?"

Pike smiled. "Nope. You seem to have it covered." The admiral looked contently over the collection that had come to accompany the captain: Lieutenants Sulu and Uhura, Ensign Chekov, Lieutenant-Commander Giotto, Ambassador Prime (Spock was not entirely sure that he appreciated the Ambassador's presence), and Admirals Archer and Pike, and, of course, the ever-present Nowmi and T'Panya. The latter was being hesitantly and awkwardly comforted by an uneasy Nowmi, who seemed disinclined to come into physical contact with the jittery Vulcan woman.

"Are we moving out?" Jim asked Spock quietly. Spock jumped slightly at the sudden address and hoped that Jim would be kind enough not to comment.

"We are supposed to, yes."

"Righto." Jim planted his feet at shoulder's width and settled his fists firmly on his hips. "Crew of the _Enterprise_ and company!" he announced. "We're off!"

"_To see the wizard_," Spock heard Sulu mutter. The group began to migrate up the steps to the top floor.

Jim and Spock were the last to leave the main hall, and so were at the back of the raucous mob that twined through the Academy corridors. Jim moved closer so that the back of his hand brushed Spock's hip. "Are you really alright?" the human asked with genuine concern.

Spock nodded, feeling heat rise from his neck. He would soon be visibly blushing. "I am well. The Doctor has managed, through no skill of his own, I am certain, to cure the worst of my symptoms."

Jim snorted with surprised amusement. The blonde elbowed him playfully. "We did it, you know."

"Could you be slightly more vague?"

The human laughed outright and worked to smother the noise. "We pulled off this Revolution. I mean, I'm not sure I _agree_ with it totally, but I'm glad that it worked." Jim frowned. "If that makes any sense."

"… Not particularly."

"Yeah." Jim grinned at the ceiling and knit his hands at the back of his neck. "I guess not." He tilted his head to beam at Spock. "I'm glad you were with me for it."

Spock could feel his ears change color in dramatically little time. "… Thank you."

Jim was clearly distracted. "… You know…"

"You have my permission."

"Really?"

"You have been focused on my ears for quite some time now."

Jim looked to the group to ensure that no one was paying them any mind. He then nudged Spock over to a wall and put a hand to the side of his face, lightly tracing the edge of one pointed ear. Jim appeared content to stay in that position, one hand draped gently over a jaw and cheekbone, so Spock raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Jim's eyes widened, he beamed, and he kissed Spock.

While this was not at all what Spock was expecting to happen, he had no complaints, and the two of them were having an indecently enjoyable time before Nowmi ran up and, with absolutely no warning, kicked Jim in the shins. Jim broke away with an aborted yelp, and Spock glared at the reporter. Nowmi was not fazed by the look. In fact, she looked rather giddy with energy absorbed from the joyful officers. "You're lagging," she explained. "Archer was getting worried."

Nowmi spun on her heel and left for the group, which had at some point turned the corner. Jim blinked after the woman. He turned to Spock and leveled a determined finger. "We are continuing that later."

"Indeed."

Jim grinned at him. "_Excellent._" The human bounded off down the corridor. Spock watched him go with affectionate amusement.

"Well?" Jim asked, poking his head around the bend in the corridor. "You coming or what?"

Spock rolled his eyes and enjoyed Jim's choked gasp. "I will attend. I would not, after all, wish to be late for the afterparty."

.bdobd.

The photograph was carried on the front of every newspaper of consequence: Captain Kirk and his crew lined up on top of the Academy, with the _Enterprise_,_ Odyssey-A_, and _Salient_ floating above. Deliriously happy cadets and staff cheered on the lawn.

The reporters Zarabeth Nowmi and T'Panya stood to the left of the _Enterprise_ crew, joined by Admirals Archer and Pike and by the Senior Vulcan Federation Councilperson Prime. They were gathered a respectful distance from the heroes of the Cadet's Revolution of 2259, and they applauded.

.bdobd.

Jim beamed like an idiot as Spock set up the chessboard. They'd only been in space for six days, but everyone was already talking about the Revolution as if it were ancient, sacred history. It drove Spock crazy, and the hybrid felt it his duty to respond to all of the requests for comment that came pouring in from various news outlets. Jim assured the man that the care he took with his statements wasn't necessary, but Spock didn't believe him, and went about skipping chess in favor of typing.

Spock looked questioningly at Jim from under his eyebrows. "I'm happy you're here," Jim explained, still grinning. Spock nodded slowly, after a beat. "Oh, come on. I know you missed me."

"… We work together in close contact for over eight hours a day."

"… Spock, you know it's bad for my heart if you surprise me with this shit. I can get _sick_. _Why_ do you hate me so much."

"I will assume that you are being sarcastic."

"That'd be wise."

Spock settled the last pawn in its place. Jim started to squirm off of the bed where he'd been sprawled, noodle-like, for the past three hours, but Spock unexpectedly picked up the board and carried it over to him. Spock took a seat at Jim's hip, the Vulcan's weight driving the blankets over the side of the mattress.

The board was placed next to Jim's head. "Your move, I believe."

Jim blinked at the nonchalant tone, then enjoyed the notion that this was their new normal. He hummed peacefully and tucked a knight into a corner on the second level.

They played quietly for a few minutes, until it became clear that Jim wasn't really putting forth a huge effort and would be crushed in an accordingly puny amount of time. Spock took the opportunity to settle his hand on Jim's stomach.

It didn't have a lot to do there, and it surprised Jim to the point where he didn't have any sort of response for a good while. Spock seemed to get nervous when Jim didn't say anything, and was pulling the hand away when Jim settled his palm on Spock's wrist and pressed gently. The two of them inhabited in a sort of pleasant awkwardness for a while, at which point Jim decided to break the tension by leering grandly up at the Vulcan.

Spock looked exasperated, but didn't move his hand. "The Admiralty will be searching for admirals to fill the places vacated by Mr. Barnett and Mrs. Hivash," Spock said, trying to be subtle and failing miserably. Jim snorted and took one of Spock's bishops.

"No way. I _like_ my job. Besides, we've got to stay here and make sure Dejan is fitting in."

"Ensign Tyr is totally assimilated within the Communications Department. Lieutenant Uhura saw to that."

Jim hummed, rubbing Spock's captive wrist with his thumb. Tyr Dejan was admitted into the Federation with little fuss, becoming Dejan Tyr in the process. Cardassian last names were traditionally spoken first, and the Admissions Board had taken it upon themselves to swap the order of Dejan's names. Jim had thrown a tantrum, and Starfleet had found it fit to admit the Cardassian woman as 'Tyr [first name] Dejan'. She was doing well at her post, and seemed to enjoy making fun of Barre, Uhura's flighty second in command, in Cardassian, which amused everyone except Barre.

"Dejan's cool like that."

"I shall be sure to pass that information on."

Jim snorted. "Don't you dare. I'll have to explain the metaphor to her in depth, and you know how bad I am at that."

"Indeed."

Jim laughed at the dry tone. "I'm honestly just waiting for something to go wrong."

Spock peered down at him with concern. "Why? We are the leaders of a successful Revolt. There is little that can be done to us."

"I guess so." Jim sighed and dug his head into Spock's hip, looking up at the abandoned board. "But we've thought that before, haven't we."

"… Yes." Spock ran his free hand through Jim's hair. "We are still here, however."

"True."

Jim's alarm went off with a jarring wail. Spock tensed and Jim twisted around the Vulcan to slap at the clock. "Sorry," he grinned apologetically. "I set it to make sure I didn't forget T'Panya's show."

Spock nodded in acknowledgement. "I have seen very little of it."

"It's good, actually." Jim relaxed back onto the bed. "I'm glad that she's got her own, now. And that it's streaming from the colony, that's pretty cool. First live broadcast and all that."

"How had Nowmi reacted to the development?"

"She seems fine. She hasn't called since Mahor and Pachek's funeral, if that's what you mean."

Spock was silent for a moment. "… It is… _good_ that they received a formal memorial."

Jim curled closer to Spock's thigh. "Yeah. It is."

.bdobd.

James insisted that he was not surprised by the order to patrol the Beta quadrant. The two men were sitting alone in the main conference room, discussing the reasoning behind the Admiralty's unusual decision to send the flagship of the Federation into the areas least patrolled by Starfleet.

"They want us out of the way while they work everything out," he explained. "Normal human reaction. Archer wants to get his footing as new Commodore, and doesn't need even more media devoted to any communications breakdowns or ambassador's deaths or Orion issues –,"

"Or relationships between commanding officers."

James stilled for a moment. Spock took the moment to open the channel that had begun to blink patiently on the incoming frequencies section almost the moment that the Admiralty had signed off. Spock made sure to switch off visual feeds from both ends, letting only audio transmit.

Jim nodded almost gleefully. "Yeah. That too. Pike didn't seem too happy when we told him, huh?"

"Indeed not."

James hummed at the memory of the stunned and frustrated admiral. "It's not the worst that could happen."

Spock felt an eyebrow rise seemingly of its own volition. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

Jim beamed over at him. "We're still together, aren't we?"

"They rerouted the entire ship because of –,"

"The captain. That's normal."

"It is not –,"

"Right or ethical."

Spock stared at his folded hands, conscious of the room's invisible third party. "… Nowmi would be glad to hear of this issue."

Jim gasped softly with horror. "You're… You're _evil._" The blonde seemed to curl in upon himself with a gleeful purr. "Oh, she'll _love_ us."

"She is," Spock reminded him, "busy covering the Klingon reaction to our destruction of one of their ships at Orion."

"Oh, they shouldn't've been there anyway." Jim waved the issue away. "Besides, we had to get Topos's body to the Fed; they were in the way. We'll win." 

"Yes," Spock agreed, "we will. But first there will be a fight."

"Eh, what else is new. We'll give her two weeks, get ourselves right in the middle of nowhere, and give 'em hell."

Spock waited before nodding. His acquiescence was almost ceremonial. "A sound plan."

Jim beamed at him again. "I do believe, however," Spock continued, "that a conversation with my counterpart is in order." 

Blue eyes widened. "Holy shit, I haven't talked to Prime since the – God, I'm such a bastard! Thanks," Jim dove for the comm controls, "I totally would've –,"

Prime's face appeared on the table's holoscreen without any prompting from Jim. "Hey Prime, I'm – Why're you grinning? … Wait… How long has this thing been on –? _Spock_, you dirty _bastard,_ you told me we were going to _wait _to tell him about –! God, I hate you _all!_"

Prime was barely withholding a Terran smile. "I requested information on your relationship status and future plans. I had not expected that –,"

"_Spock_, you dirty _bastard!_" Jim was talking through laughter. "You said we weren't going to be able to get a message through!"

Spock shrugged for effect. "T'Panya –,"

"_T'Panya?_"

"– ensured a connection. I doubt we will have any issues in the future."

Prime nodded in agreement as Jim spluttered happily. "I am in agreement. Our communication problems seem to, for the most part, have been solved."

.bdobd.

T'Panya did segment on the biases the Admiralty held against relationships between commanding officers two days afterward. It was excellent. Nowmi was irritated that she had not gotten the lead from Jim, until the blonde informed her of the identity of Pike's date.

Winona Kirk was irritated when the reporter called asking about the ethics of an ambassador being involved with an admiral, but she understood her son's motivation, and commed to tell him so.

Meanwhile, Archer sent the _Enterprise_ deeper into the Beta Quadrant and did not bring up the issue again. Jim and Spock were free to watch politics, but were cut off from actively participating.

This suited them just fine.

.bdobd.

END

.bdobd.


End file.
